


Day by Day

by Stariceling



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Lemon, M/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-06
Updated: 2005-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can Heero and Quatre build something together, or will it all fall apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part. I’ve only planned four parts, but when one part can get up to 20 pages. . . it becomes quite a handful, to say the least. The length gives their relationship some room to grow and change, which is something I’ve always wanted to have time to do. This part takes place while everyone is on Peacemillion together.

Somewhere between fighting and repairs and trying to get enough rest to wake up and keep going the next day, everyone on the Peacemillion did have to find time to bathe. Everyone was limited to sponge baths to save water, which explained the absence of shower stalls to provide even a little privacy. The only real measure of privacy was that there were two of the tiny rooms. One for men and one for women. One dropped one’s clothes into one of the tiny-sized washing machines arranged along the wall (usually washing the clothes with the last batch of bath water), went into the men’s or women’s cubicle, and got clean. And when there was as little time for bathing and rest as there was, one did not complain if someone else happened to already be in the narrow little bathroom when one arrived, one simply shared.

Most importantly, Quatre reminded himself, one did not stop and watch the other person. It was rude.

If Heero didn’t care then there was no reason he shouldn’t just ignore the fact that he wasn’t alone, the same way Heero seemed to be ignoring him. Still, Quatre spent another moment watching Heero, looking for some sign that the other boy knew or cared that he was there. Heero kept his back to Quatre, fully intent on the meticulous scrubbing of first one leg, then the other.

“Heero?” Quatre gulped back nervousness. Heero had stilled, waiting, probably thinking Quatre had something to say. He had just wanted to ask Heero if he would rather Quatre come back in a few minutes, but that seemed impossibly stupid all of a sudden.

“Would you like me to wash your back?” Quatre asked, knowing this was safest, since Heero would probably turn him down anyway.

Heero half-turned to look at him, nodded, and silently offered him the sponge. Quatre had to gulp back another wave of nervousness as he took it. Okay, so maybe he didn’t know as much about Heero as he’d thought.

Though his hands were steady on Heero’s back, Quatre’s mind was racing. He was not enjoying this, he told himself. He was determined not to enjoy this. But there wasn’t much chance of getting around it. Quatre, to put it nicely, simply did not like girls all that much.

Heero was tense at first, as if unsure of quite how to react to this new experience, but he relaxed quickly, until Quatre thought he could even be enjoying the attention. Though his hands obeyed his determination to keep things entirely platonic between them, his heart flipped when Heero gave an almost imperceptible sigh as he brushed away a few damp strands of hair plastered to Heero’s neck.

Quatre lingered over the task, telling himself firmly that he only wanted to be through, and stamping down the impulse to run his bare hands down Heero’s back when he was finished.

Quatre retreated the moment he was done, still almost not believing that he’d gotten away with such an act, such a suddenly intimate seeming thing. He was only half able to acknowledge Heero’s quiet thanks. Quatre concentrated on retrieving and lathering up his own sponge, and made sure to sit facing nonchalantly away from Heero. He was half sure Heero was done and ready to leave when he heard him getting up.

Quatre yelped, startled, as Heero lay his hands gently on his shoulders. Heero reached around him to gently take the sponge, Quatre’s fingertips seemed to tingle in surprise when Heero’s hand brushed them.

“What are you doing?” Quatre’s voice was little more then a breath. He hunched over instinctively, curling in on himself protectively. Heero went still behind him.

“I’m just returning the favor,” Heero reassured him, then added, in a more soothing tone than Quatre would have ever expected from him, “Is that all right?”

“Yes.”

Heero hesitated another moment, then gently began to scrub. Quatre felt the tense hold of his muscles melt almost instantly beneath Heero’s firm touch. He was suddenly very aware of his nudity, and not at all able to summon the panic to care.

It seemed like not nearly long enough that Heero scrubbed, but when he handed back the sponge, Quatre knew that they had both been drawing it out. He found himself savoring the reluctance on Heero’s part to let go almost as much as he had enjoyed Heero’s hands on him.

For a moment, they were both still, unsure of what to do or say. Quatre felt something working inside of his heart, a longing for human contact. He knew what it was driving him to do was foolish, but he didn’t care. He leaned back into Heero, half hoping for, half expecting the fact that Heero’s arms would wind around his waist.

Quatre let his head fall back, turning his face to really look at Heero for the first time since he had entered the bathroom. He forgot that only his back and his hands were clean, forgot about the grime and exhaustion of the day, he even managed to conveniently forget that Heero had always seemed utterly untouchable.

With trembling hands, they shyly probed emotions and tested the tiniest beginnings of each other’s limits. Heero’s fingers smoothed along Quatre’s collarbone, Quatre traced the line of Heero’s jaw. It would have seemed impossible to Quatre before this moment, but he felt himself connect with Heero, just for the moment. He could feel a mark of loneliness on Heero as intimately as if it was his. For a moment they shared a desperate sort of bliss, eagerly soaking up as much affection as they could get.

No words were offered. The shy touch of Quatre’s fingers tangling in Heero’s hair, or Heero’s touch lingering at Quatre’s hip, keeping him close, spoke every word that needed saying.

It was only after the first edge of desperation was sated that they were able to take a moment to breathe, to adjust and think. Something had passed between them that Quatre could not name or define, but it had left him feeling oddly at peace.

Parting was awkward and silent. Quatre refused to let himself rise and follow Heero, though he did turn to face him, making it easier for them to steal glances at each other.

Heero lingered for a moment, until Trowa entered, and everything snapped back into its original place. Heero left, Trowa settled, and Quare found his mind still spinning as he tried to readjust to the flow of reality. Only his hands moved, working automatically. His exhaustion was back. He didn’t even have the strength to react in surprise when Trowa placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Would you like me to wash your back?”

“No, Heero already . . .” Quatre shrugged, then turned to Trowa, “here. I’ll do yours.”

Trowa turned, allowing Quatre to reach easily. He lingered a moment on the task of washing Trowa’s back, trying to see if he could feel the same connection again.

Guilt came sudden and painful, though he couldn’t name its exact root. After that Quatre washed quickly, dressed quickly, and went to seek the safety of his bunk, his clothes still damp.

* * *

It was a full two days before Quatre was alone with Heero again. Two more days without any sort of confrontation was enough to set everyone on edge. He took it in turns to avoid or seek out Heero, depending on his mood, but in the end it was Heero who initiated contact. They met, as if by chance, outside of the room he shared with Duo. Though his words were businesslike as he told Quatre he wanted a word, the brush of his hand against Quatre’s had been a reminder of what had happened in the bathroom.

“Heero,” Quatre turned to face the other pilot as the door closed behind them, cutting them off in darkness. He felt trapped by more then the close quarters they were confined to. The fact of touching Heero once had opened up a simple need just to be close to someone. He wanted, needed, the exchange. There was no getting around the fact. Things had become so tense in the lull between battles and repairs. It was a feeling that he wanted to forget.

“Quatre,” Heero’s voice was an honest agreement. He found Quatre easily in the dark, taking him by the elbow and guiding him close until Quatre was sure he could feel Heero’s body heat against his front. It was touching without touching as Heero waited to allow Quatre to make the next move.

Quatre hesitated only an instant before fumbling for Heero in the dark. He managed to get his arms around the other boy’s waist, and clung to him, half stubborn, half afraid to let go.

“Heero,” he sighed, feeling Heero respond, putting arms around him as well. He let his head fall to Heero’s chest, whispering again into the darkness, “Heero.”

Heero stepped back after only a moment, taking Quatre’s hands and guiding him unerringly through the dark room. The subnormal gravity of the ship had always made Quatre feel a bit strange, but now the added darkness, and the hands guiding him made everything feel surreal. Heero guided him right up to the edge of his bunk, and asked him to sit.

Quatre felt his heart change to a strangely uncomfortable tempo. He was being suddenly and unkindly reminded just how little he really knew about Heero. Heero settled beside him, drawing Quatre into his arms again with a nearly inaudible sigh. Quatre found it harder to respond in kind this time.

“What’s wrong?” Heero had noticed just as quickly as Quatre had expected he would.

“Why the bed? I mean . . . ” Quatre could feel himself blush, and was suddenly very glad for the darkness. Really, he shouldn’t keep jumping to conclusions about Heero.

“I wanted you to be comfortable.” Quatre felt his blush deepen.

“Oh.” He wrapped his arms around Heero again. After a moment of discomfort they both settled into simply holding one another. There were things that they knew better then to talk about just now. There was a certain danger in putting the feelings into words. It was better to leave it at simple, wordless, comfort.

It didn’t even have to be Heero, theoretically, Quatre told himself. But . . . no . . . did it have to be Heero? Was it selfish to only seek out one person, when others close to them might be needing human contact just as much as the two of them did? Everyone compared Heero in adjectives related to a machine: efficient, unshakeable, exact; and others that Quatre didn’t want to think about: emotionless, stoic, cold. But Heero was human. He had emotions, and though he held them back sometimes so that they would not restrict his work, they were there. He could still act on them. Quatre was surrounded by him, the smell and feel of him, and he was undeniably human. Heero. Everything in that dark room seemed to begin and end with Heero. It didn’t matter if someone else would suffice.

Quatre clung to Heero more tightly as he realized this, tilting his head up to look into Heero’s face. All he could see was a shadow, a darker shape against the darkness, but Heero tightened his hold on Quatre, and that was enough. Their noses bumped in the dark, and Quatre was seized with the sudden urge to try something.

“Heero, may I?” Quatre knew he was close enough for Heero to feel his breath on his mouth, as he could feel Heero’s on his own. Heero was silent, unsure of what Quatre intended to do, perhaps.

Quatre knew in some part of his mind that this shouldn’t be done, that it was too soon, that it would kill as many possibilities as it provided. At the same time he knew it had to be done, somehow. Heero should feel this, he thought dimly. His voice was barely more then a whisper of breath across Heero’s face, “please?”

“Yes,” Heero offered.

It was a gift, purely a gift. Quatre wished he knew better what to do, but he couldn’t help it. He touched his lips to Heero’s, a delicate test. Heero jerked in surprise, Quatre felt himself redden.

“I’m sorry, I . . .” Quatre trailed off as he felt Heero take his face in his hands.

“Let me try?”

Quatre stopped breathing for a second. Heero wasn’t angry. And . . .

“Yes,” Quatre gasped, his heart sped up as he felt Heero leaning over him in the dark, seeking out his mouth. The second time was less timid. Heero cupped his face, pressing down onto Quatre’s mouth with his own. Quatre grabbed handfuls of Heero’s shirt as their mouths slid together clumsily.

Neither of them needed to ask permission to initiate the third kiss, or the fourth, or the fifth. They parted for a few gasps of breath each time, then kissed again. Quatre had never known kissing could feel so good, or be so awkward. Neither of them knew what to do, but that didn’t really seem to affect them. They learned together, memorizing the feel of mouths pressed against each other, savoring the little shivers of joy and excitement set off by this new activity.

Heero sat back after the fifth kiss, letting them both catch their breath.

“Your face is hot,” He told Quatre, running his thumb down Quatre’s cheek.

“I’m blushing,” Quatre answered back, “that’s why.”

Heero’s hands finally released him. “I think I am too.”

Quatre nodded, breathing hard, then reached for Heero again.

“No,” Heero had expected this, and caught his hands, “we could get caught if you stay any longer.”

Quatre bit his lip, then nodded, though he knew Heero wouldn’t see. Heero had probably planed this, and found them a block of time when they would be least likely to be interrupted. It was an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t let anyone else know. This was private.

“Again? Sometime?” Quatre asked, his voice wistful as Heero let go of him entirely.

“Yes.”

It was all Quatre needed. He rose and left Heero alone in the dark, determined not to look back. There was no reason he should wish he could have had more time, he told himself. It had been enough to satisfy his hunger for affection, and for Heero’s touch. He went quickly to bed, still trembling inside from the kisses, and fell asleep almost instantly. And when Trowa looked in on him later, he didn’t even notice, though the other pilot might have wondered why he was exhausted enough to fall asleep in his clothes.

* * *

After the tension of their long wait, the next battle seemed mercifully brief. Then again, it might have been ZERO that made Quatre feel that things had gone by so fast. The conflict was coming to a head. Everything had become so intense that Quatre could taste it in the air.

He should have been exhausted. He ached all over, but his mind was still whirring. There was a pressure inside of his skull that demanded outlet. His hands somehow remained steady as he removed the system from Sandrock, but he was trembling inside.

“Quatre,” Heero was there, watching him. One hand on the frame of Sandrock’s cockpit, waiting for Quatre’s permission to get any closer.

“It’s okay, I don’t need it anymore.” Quatre wished he would go away. Now he knew why Heero was unsociable right after using the system. He was so tense inside. His nerves were coiled up in something not-quite frustration. Everything he saw was outlined and shadowed in something else, but the tints and patterns of the shadows made no sense. He looked calm on the outside, he knew. Tired, maybe, but calm. Inside he was impossibly twisted up.

“You used it,” Quatre wasn’t sure if it was a question or not. Heero stepped into Sandrock’s cockpit and closed the hatch behind him. Quatre stiffened. Heero was in his space now, and he didn’t like it.

“Heero . . .” Quatre’s voice was half warning, half panic. He wanted to lash out, but he forced the feeling away.

Heero ignored his warning. He knelt over Quatre, murmuring something Quatre couldn’t quite catch. Quatre’s hands shot out, catching Heero’s arms, his nails pressing into Heero’s flesh.

Heero didn’t wince at all, instead his arms slipped around Quatre, drawing him up. Quatre could feel his own muscles shaking beneath his skin.

“That’s right,” Heero whispered against Quatre’s ear. The second time Quatre barely registered the words as he dug his nails in, breaking skin.

“That’s right.”

Quatre ripped downwards, leaving a combination of bloody slices and harmless scratches down Heero’s arms. He was only dimly aware of Heero’s hands up under his shirt before he raised his hands again, digging into Heero’s shoulders now, dragging Heero down, clinging. He let out a dry sob. Heero, his comfort, his outlet. He clawed feebly at Heero’s shoulders now, and Heero seemed to absorb him.

Already the pressure in his mind was abating, his nerves were loosening. He slowly fell back. The clawing had eased his wild nerves and now he simply clung. Heero’s face was pressed into his neck, breathing hard. Heero must have known somehow that he needed to lash out at something to get rid of the remainder of his pent up energy, but Quatre wasn’t sure how.

Quatre realized now that Heero had clawed him too. His lower back throbbed painfully where Heero’s hands now cradled it. He removed a hand to inspect the spot and it came back bloodier than before. So, Quatre thought numbly, they were even.

Heero roused slowly, drawing Quatre up with him.

“Feel better?” Quatre nodded, tears of shame and guilt quickly gathering in his eyes. Heero reached up to wipe away one that escaped down his cheek, then froze, staring numbly at the smears of blood on his fingers.

“We should get cleaned up,” Quatre offered. He pulled out of Heero’s arms and keyed the command to reopen the cockpit.

Heero’s pulled him back. For a moment they watched one another, then Heero leaned forward and licked away a tear on Quatre’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said, helping Quatre to the floor of the hanger, “I should have held back.”

They went in silence to the bathroom, practically running to avoid meeting anyone in the halls. Quatre was grateful for Heero’s guidance. Without it he might have collapsed. Not from physical exhaustion, but from shock at what he had done. He didn’t know what to think of himself, or what to do to make it up to Heero.

Heero compensated for his shock and took charge. He relieved Quatre of his shirt and sent him into the bathroom. Quatre wondered distantly if the blood would wash out.

Heero steered him around the room, washing his own hands first and then tenderly washing Quatre’s back. Quatre knelt, leaning his head against the wall, and let Heero do what he wanted.

After a moment, Heero spoke behind him, “these aren’t very deep. They’re scabbing over already,” then, in a more gentle tone, “you’ll be okay.”

Quatre finally took his head off of the wall, though Heero’s hands on him kept him from turning around, “what about you?”

“I offered,” Heero said simply, “I said you could use me.”

When Quatre was silent, Heero went on, “I’ve dealt with it before.” Heero kissed Quatre’s back, in the spaces between the wounds. After a moment his whispered, “I should have been able to control it.” He gathered Quatre back into his arms. “I’ve failed you.”

Quatre shook himself out of his shock. “No, Heero. I shouldn’t have either. What about you? I mean . . .”

There was a moment of silence. Quatre didn’t realize he should have been surprised that Heero was holding him, or that he had apologized, though only a few days ago it would have been a shock. Quatre gently washed Heero’s arms, inspecting the wounds he had caused. They weren’t as bad as he had expected, in some places he hadn’t broken the skin at all.

“Heero,” he whispered at last, “next time, I want to be there for you. I mean . . .” Quatre trailed off as Heero released him.

“No. You don’t have to. I won’t use you like that.”

“Heero.” Quatre hung on to him, refusing to let Heero put any distance between them. “Please. If you really want to you can make it up to me later.”

“How!?” Heero’s anger scared Quatre, but not enough to make him let go. “What am I supposed to do for you?”

“Just stay alive,” Quatre’s voice broke as he said it. It was all he wanted.

Heero went still, very suddenly. Quatre tightened his grip on Heero’s shoulders to keep his hands from shaking. He had never seen Heero this emotional. Was this an aftereffect of that intense tangled feeling they had suffered from? Was Heero breaking down right before his eyes?

“I can’t promise that.”

“Heero,” it was too late to call him back. Heero was already gone. Quatre stalled as long as he could in the bathroom, hoping if he did, that things would somehow reverse, that Heero would return. When he finally gave up, Quatre realized something very odd. His shirt had been stained a very, very light shade of pink. He shrugged it off. If he was lucky, no one would notice.

* * *

Quatre had never expected to become so attached to Heero. He felt isolated without him. It wasn’t that Heero was actively shunning him, just that he had gone back to treating Quatre the way he had before everything had started. Heero might not be particularly cruel or hurtful to him, but Quatre felt dejected and hurt just the same. He missed the tidbits of attention and affection they had shared, and had to scold himself whenever he caught himself longing for Heero.

Throughout his life Quatre had accumulated the instinct to present a calm face to the world around him. It wasn’t perfect, or as seamless as Heero’s by any means, but it served him well enough now. If anything, he just seemed more worried and distracted then usual, and everyone aboard Peacemillion had plenty to be worried and distracted about.

The only person who knew of his emotional upset was Heero. Quatre cursed himself now for such a slip of control. He might as well have begged Heero, he told himself disgustedly. In the space of only a few minutes, in only a single word, he had pushed Heero even farther away.

With no way of having Heero cooperate with him so they could find some time alone together, Quatre had been forced to seize a less then ideal moment to talk to him. Less then ideal meaning: someone could have walked in right as they were talking. Quatre cursed himself for being so desperate.

“Heero,” Quatre had called softly, to get Heero’s attention. He slipped up beside Heero. When he stretched one arm across Heero, it was more then a bar, to keep him there and make him listen. There was a soft intimacy in the brush of his arm against Heero’s. Quatre’s heart had jolted with every beat, because he knew that all of his vulnerability was stamped plainly across his face.

It must have been that which made Heero slip back into his more intimate treatment of Quatre, just enough to be gentle to him. He lay his fingers across Quatre’s mouth, stopping him from saying any more.

“No.” Heero’s voice was firm. Quatre fought off despair.

Quatre let his arm relax and slip as he nuzzled into Heero’s fingers. Heero was breathing hard as he yanked back his hand. Quatre knew this could be his only chance.

“Heero . . .” he started again. But Heero moved, easily breaking Quatre’s relaxed hold.

“No.” Heero’s voice was a command now. Quatre felt as if he was being thrown back by the iron will behind it. He was unable to call Heero back, to explain, and Heero left.

It was unbearable that Heero should posses the skill to abandon him so completely. It was unbearable because Quatre had no corresponding skill to call him back.

Most likely, Heero thought Quatre was going to attempt to force him into agreeing to what he had offered. Maybe he even suspected Quatre of trying to seduce him on some level. All Quatre had wanted was to start over. He wanted to say ‘forgive me,’ or maybe ‘I won’t force you to do anything,’ or something, anything. Those diplomat’s words had not come easily enough to save him. Heero had frozen them on his tongue, and he was forced to whisper them into his pillow that night, as if simply saying them would give his feelings the power to reach Heero.

There was nothing he could do about the unfortunate encounter now. He only had one more choice, and though it was unfair to trap Heero the way he planed, he was willing try it if it would make Heero listen. All he could do for now was wait.

* * *

They might have been granted a shorter wait until the next battle, but their enemy made up for it by attacking in the middle of the night shift. Though Quatre felt nearly dizzy with fatigue afterward, this was his chance to see Heero. While the others understandably chose a few more hours of sleep before starting on repairs the next day, Heero remained behind in solitude. Quatre joined him, hovering half-in and half-out of the cockpit, as Heero had done to him.

“Heero,” Quatre called softly. Heero stiffened. Quatre tried not to be intimidated by the fact that Heero wouldn’t look up at him. He knelt beside Heero so he could look into his eyes. Tenderly he reached up to cup Heero’s face.

“It’s all right, you know,” he promised, “you can use me for this.”

Heero was breathing hard. He shook his head violently, pulling his face out of Quatre’s hands. “Get out.”

“No,” Quatre whispered. He caught Heero’s face, “whatever happens, I’ll forgive you. I’ve already forgiven you.” As if to seal his promise, Quatre ran his mouth across Heero’s. It was more of a nuzzle then a proper kiss, but it made Heero come alive.

Heero pressed back up into Quatre, biting roughly at his mouth. His hands curled behind Quatre, trapping him and pulling him down. He moved lower and laid a mock bite across Quatre’s throat, teeth resting lightly against the skin.

Quatre was limp in his arms by now, simply letting Heero do what he wanted. A thrill of fear ran down his spine as Heero growled low in his throat. He tilted his head to the side, wordlessly offering up the junction of his shoulder and neck as new territory for biting.

Heero paused a moment, still breathing hard, then moaned. It was a deep, desperate sound, one that Quatre felt more then heard. His control seemed to snap, and he lunged forward, pinning Quatre uncomfortably across the still open hatch.

Quatre’s head hit the metal hard, and for a moment all he was aware of was a ringing in his ears. The pain brought him back to his senses, such pain that it made his eyes tear. Heero’s teeth had sunk deep into his shoulder, forcing Quatre to clench his own teeth in agony. He choked on a scream as hot blood spread across his chest and ran down one arm.

It was only for a moment, then Heero had stopped. He sat up, shaking and spitting blood. Quatre wiped the unshed tears out of his eyes. He couldn’t think, he only stared up into Heero’s face.

With unheard-of tenderness, Heero lifted Quatre into his arms. Quatre roused from the stunning blow to his head while Heero nuzzled him, raining tender kisses on his face. Quatre trembled, fingers brushing Heero’s face as Heero let out another moan of despair. He couldn’t believe such a sudden and complete change was possible.

As Heero rocked him in his arms, Quatre suddenly remembered how sleepy he had been. He forgot what he needed to say to Heero, and forgot what he needed to explain. Later, Quatre couldn’t be sure if he slept or fainted. The last thing he remembered was strong arms around him, warm and safe, and the wordless assurance that he wouldn’t be harmed again.

* * *

Quatre woke in the comfortable stillness of the Peacemillion’s medical ward. A curtain had been drawn around his bed for privacy, making the light dim and soft. A stiffness about his shoulder spoke of newly wrapped bandages. His hand was trapped safely under the warmth of Heero’s hand.

Stirring brought Heero back to full attention. The hand on his squeezed, then stroked lovingly. Quatre didn’t know if he should be afraid as Heero leaned over him. He could only stare up into Heero’s eyes. For the moment, it seemed that Heero could only stare back.

“Will you forgive me?” Quatre blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected this. Then again, he had no idea what to expect from Heero anymore.

“I said I already did, before anything even happened.”

Heero’s hand clenched painfully around his, the only sign to his emotions. “Would you forgive me if I had killed you?”

Quatre felt his eyes widen. He struggled to compose himself. “I didn’t think you’d go that far.”

“I didn’t want to.” Quatre went still, realizing the seriousness of what he was about to hear. “I might have killed you with this.” his fingers trailed across Quatre’s shoulder, so lightly that Quatre could not feel them through the bandages. Heero moved his hand back to squeeze Quatre’s hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t suffer any more from it. No matter what I have to say.”

Something about the way Heero said this made Quatre break his determination to stay still and let Heero talk. “What? What are you going to . . . ?” Heero’s fingers across his mouth silenced him.

“If anything has to be said, then I will take the blame.” Quatre trembled, but Heero’s fingers trapped any other words in his mouth. “I’ll say I tried to rape you if I have to.”

“But you didn’t!” Quatre blurted out. Heero pulled back, looking down in shame.

“You don’t know that.” Quatre stilled again, unsure now if he wanted to hear.

“I wanted . . . to make you part of me. To posses you. I wanted you to be mine, and no one else’s. Do you understand?” Quatre nodded. “Can you forgive me for that?”

“Only if you can forgive me.”

Heero was startled, the expression was little more than a widening of the eyes. “Then all is forgiven,” he whispered. Softly, he kissed Quatre’s mouth, sealing the agreement.

* * *

Quatre guessed he should consider himself lucky that he wasn’t required to stay in the infirmary. Twice a day he had to go to have his shoulder checked, but that was all. Really, what he should be grateful for was no the story of how he had received his wound had taken hold. Officially he had torn his shoulder by doing repairs while not paying close enough attention. Quatre wasn’t sure that anyone believed that. Trowa was behaving a little differently toward him. Duo had teased him for being clumsy for a short while, but quickly noticed something was not quite right about the whole situation and dropped it.

In the end, though, what Quatre was really grateful for was that whenever he had to go to the infirmary Heero would meet him there. Sally Po seemed willing to turn a blind eye to the dark haired pilot snuggling her patient, and Quatre would blush helplessly while caught between Sally’s careful inspection of his shoulder, and Heero’s face pressed against his neck.

After a few visits, Quatre began to feel uneasy about Heero’s behavior. It felt like Heero turned on a switch and was affectionate, then turned it off and was normal again. Quatre didn’t know what to think of Heero anymore. He had to see him, talk to him, and find out what was going on.

With this in mind, Quatre slipped into Heero’s room one night when he was sure Duo would be busy. He found Heero asleep, sprawled across the bed still fully clothed. Sitting beside Heero on the bed, Quatre toyed with the idea of waking him. He reached out to rouse Heero, and suddenly found the effort was not needed.

Heero snapped awake, snatching Quatre’s wrist and throwing him down. For a moment they were face to face, Heero holding him firmly into the bed, staring into the eyes of the intruder in his bunk.

Soon his grip eased into a hug, and he looked almost glad to see Quatre.

“For real this time,” he said. Their noses touched, there was the most subtle drawback of hesitancy, then he kissed Quatre. Quatre put his arms around Heero to hug him tightly.

At last. This was what he had wanted. The kisses were tentative, but their hands were more sure now. The gentle rubbing of backs and hair, and even the sweet brush of fingers across cheeks or lips was un-hesitant and sure.

This was not an act, or desperation, or the guilt that followed desperation, or anything Quatre had settled for lately. This was the wordless feeling he had missed. Both of them took what they needed, and managed not to leave hurt in their wake. Quatre left with his heart full, and for the first time since the day he had removed the ZERO system, he slept peacefully.

* * *

Desperation could take many forms, as Quatre discovered not long after Heero’s next brush with the ZERO system.

Quatre had gotten the message through to Heero that he would wait for him in Heero’s bunk. It would be their best chance for privacy at the moment. He decided to take off his shirt as well. After being bled on and ripped open, it had seen enough wear.

“Quatre,” Heero had slipped in behind him without Quatre hearing him. By now that didn’t surprise him. His first concern was Heero. By the long, shuddering breaths he could hear behind him, he knew Heero was near the breaking point. Well, that was what he was here for.

“Here,” Quatre turned and led Heero to the bed, “it will be easier.” He sat, drawing Heero along with him. Heero’s eyes traveled over his bare chest for a moment, sizing up this new element, before he let go, tackling Quatre to the bed.

Immediately Quatre knew this was different. Heero didn’t seem intent on inflicting pain or even really exerting his will over Quatre. He took no time for biting or scratching as he lips pressed firmly over Quatre’s and his hands meticulously explored every inch of Quatre’s exposed skin.

Quatre had never been kissed so deeply. His mouth moved helplessly and thoughtlessly beneath Heero’s. He needed to be kissed like this. His mouth was eager to be plundered by Heero’s tongue. The experience was so new, so deep that he felt like he was drowning in it. At the same time Heero was still desperate, almost hungry. He was bent on possessing instead of harming, and that made all the difference.

As Heero slowly calmed, his kisses turning from desperate possession to apology, Quatre mourned the change with his whole body. Heero’s hands stilled and simply held him instead of groping. Quatre sighed, kissing Heero back happily. This was no sacrifice. This was pure enjoyment.

Heero sat up, turning away from Quatre guiltily. Quatre reached up to pull him back, and was startled to see him flinch. He frowned. Heero hadn’t hurt him this time, what was wrong with him?

“Heero?” Quatre sat up, reaching for Heero again. His hand hovered over Heero’s shoulder, hesitating to make contact.

Heero exhaled through his teeth. He shook his head, pushing Quatre’s hand away.

“Did I do something wrong?” Quatre couldn’t understand what Heero was so upset about. He had enjoyed what Heero had done. “Heero. . . ”

Quatre scooted up next to Heero on the bed, rubbing his head on Heero’s shoulder fondly. He caught Heero’s hand in both of his own and held it gingerly. After a moment Heero responded to his touch, his fingers curling around Quatre’s hand. Quatre let out the breath he had been holding with a little sound of relief.

It was hard for Quatre to know what to do with Heero. He spoke so little, and avoided being touched by most people. For the first time since they had first touched Quatre thought to wonder at Heero’s willingness to let him pass inside of those boundaries. Had Heero changed his mind? Quatre didn’t want to be shut out now.

“Quatre,” Heero’s voice was firmer then the tone he normally used when alone with Quatre. That same firmness was echoed in his eyes, and in the set of his face. “You need to leave.”

“Why?” Quatre reached for Heero again, wanting to touch more then just his hand. Heero didn’t flinch away this time as Quatre put his arms around him, leaning his entire body up against Heero’s. The tense set of Heero’s muscles made Quatre suspect he was forcing himself to stay still. Shyly he traced one finger along the line of Heero’s collar bone, his eyes set on Heero’s face, as Heero refused to meet his gaze.

Heero waited a minute, then asked, “have you ever done this for someone else? Have you touched someone else the way we touch?”

Quatre frowned. “No.”

Heero drew a deep breath, “you don’t want to know what I might do to keep it that way.”

“Heero, nothing has to change.” Quatre wanted to kiss Heero, but he didn’t dare. Heero still wouldn’t look at him. “And as long as you can keep coming back to me alive I’ll be here for you.” Quatre wanted Heero to believe him, willed him to not dismiss the words.

“Damn it Quatre, you’re making things worse!” Heero pushed him back onto the bed again, pining him with his gaze more then his hands. “You don’t understand at all. As soon as you were in range,” Heero stopped and shook his head violently, as if trying to rid himself of something, “it was like an image of you was burned behind my eyes. I had to have you.”

Quatre had never seen Heero so animated, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, carefully not touching Quatre except to hold him down.

“I wanted, I don’t know, to mark you. Posses you. If anyone had gotten in my way . . .”

Quatre reached up now, pulling gently on the other pilot until Heero lay across him. He was perfectly still, his eyes closed as if he was exhausted from his outburst.

“It would be detrimental to our mission,” Heero attempted to salvage his admission quickly, “if I were to kill an ally simply because they put their hands on you.”

“Then I won’t let anyone else put their hands on me,” Quatre whispered, his voice serious, “I won’t give you a chance to lose control.”

“That’s what you think.” Heero raised his head. “You refuse to let me even pretend to have control. You give me every reason I have to lose control.”

Quatre felt as if they might finally be getting to the source of the problem. He understood Heero enough to know that he kept his life under very strict control, and he did not like dealing with the things that fell outside of his power. He touched Heero’s hair and face fondly.

“But it’s only after you’ve been hooked up to the ZERO system,” Quatre reasoned, “no one else will even know or be affected by it. It will not be,” Quatre smiled as he echoed Heero, “detrimental to the mission.”

Heero still wanted to argue, “and you? What about you?”

“I could forgive you when you hurt me, and I didn’t mind when you marked me.” Quatre gently but stubbornly eased Heero into accepting things. He guiltily added, “I think I even enjoyed being ‘marked’ by you.”

“You need to leave.”

Quatre didn’t protest this time, but as he glanced back at Heero from the doorway, he thought there was a funny look in Heero’s eyes as he watched him leave. He doubted very much that all of Heero’s urges had drained from him along with the last bit of the ZERO system’s influence. The look in Heero’s eyes was hungry, and Quatre couldn’t decide whether or not he should allow himself to be devoured.

* * *

“Your shirt is off again.” Heero’s hands were shaking. He must be trying to hold himself back again. Quatre put his arms around Heero’s neck, in an attempt to encourage him. If Heero was talking it was a definite sign that he was struggling to protect Quatre from whatever it was he wanted to do.

It was strange. Their last battle had been short, more of a minor skirmish. He hadn’t even thought that Heero would have had to use the system, but he was still ready to do his part.

“I know. I thought you liked it that way.” Quatre didn’t need to be protected from the things Heero had done to him lately. He loved to be kissed by Heero.

“No.” Heero tried to push Quatre away. “Get out.”

They were in Heero’s room again. Quatre always worried that Trowa would catch them in his room. The taller pilot had been spending more time around Quatre than usual.

“I like it this way,” Quatre told Heero, ignoring Heero’s order to get out. He could tell how close Heero was to snapping, but now he was sure he could get the reaction he wanted when Heero did give in.

“I like it when you touch me,” Quatre encouraged in a soft voice. He forced himself to relax, knowing what was coming. Heero tackled him back to the bed, just as he expected.

“Don’t play with me this way!” Heero’s hands were all over him. Quatre was almost used to this by now, though it never stopped being a thrill. Though. . . he couldn’t remember Heero ever touching him exactly where he was being touched now before.

“I’m not playing,” Quatre gasped, squirming under Heero’s touch. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to escape Heero or ask for even more from him. “I want you to touch me.” Heero’s hands had discovered something that made it quite obvious that Quatre was telling the truth.

“Quatre,” Heero’s hand tightened on what he had found. He seemed unable to force any more words out.

There had to be something you were supposed to say in a situation like this, but Quatre had no idea what that might be. He settled for wrapping his arms around Heero and pulling him as close as he could, enjoying the feeling of having Heero’s body pressed against his. He lifted his hips to press up into Heero’s hand. “Please.”

Maybe there wasn’t anything they were supposed to say, Quatre managed to think before he lost the capability for rational thought. Heero’s hand on him, clenching, and rubbing, and trying to get Quatre’s pants off so he could touch even more of him, offered much more then Quatre could put together with mere words.

Suddenly, Quatre jerked up into Heero’s hand. He was shaking and shuddering, gasping out something incoherent. Heero froze to stare at him, his hand still moving absentmindedly against Quatre, not even seeming to notice that his pants were now wet from what he had done.

“You.” Heero moved his hand away from Quatre’s privates up to cub his cheek. He didn’t seem to know how to process what had just happened. He wasn’t the only one, though Quatre recovered his senses much more quickly.

“I should return the favor,” Quatre suggested, shyly touching Heero in the same place where Heero had been touching him.

Heero pushed his hips into Quatre’s hand, then, as if realizing what he was doing, he yanked Quatre’s hand away.

“No!”

“But I want to.” Quatre knew he should return the favor, but there was more to it than that. He honestly wanted to show Heero what he had done to him.

Heero tried to get up, to put some distance between the two of them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He pounced on Quatre, kissing him, but refusing to let him touch. Quatre was aware of Heero’s hand between them, stroking furiously as he attacked Quatre’s lips in a fervent kiss. Quatre tried to touch Heero as well, but his hands kept getting swatted away.

Since Heero wouldn’t let himself be touched, Quatre contented himself with holding Heero comfortingly against himself as he shuddered once in release, and then fell still.

He would be happy to stay this way for hours, Quatre thought. As long as Heero didn’t try to move he would be content holding him indefinitely.

Heero sat up slowly, releasing him. He was still a little shaky, in fact he looked completely shocked at what he had let himself do with Quatre.

“I’m sorry,” Heero forced out, gently trying to re-fasten Quatre’s pants, unable to put a suitable apology into words for what he had just done to Quatre.

“No.” Quatre pulled Heero’s hands away. He saw no reason to regret what had just happened. “Never apologize for something that feels that good.”

Slowly, Heero nodded and let himself go limp on top of Quatre again. They stayed together for as long as they dared before retreating to the bathroom to clean up.

* * *

Quatre couldn’t breathe, Heero was kissing him so throughly. He didn’t think he wanted to breathe if it meant that he would have to stop kissing Heero.

In the back of his mind Quatre realized that they were getting carried away, but that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that Heero didn’t stop touching him. Quatre arched up into hands that were suddenly exploring places that they shouldn’t be.

Breaking off the kiss, Quatre gasped desperately for air. Heero didn’t seem to mind. His attention was on other things. He was clutching Quatre to his chest, finding pleasure in an activity that was still completely new to both of them.

Heero ground his hips down against Quatre’s, making them both cry out at the sensation. Even through the several layers of cloth separating them Quatre could feel how hot Heero was, and how hard.

Practically sobbing into Quatre’s hair, Heero managed to get one arm under Quatre, wrapping it around his waist so he could press them even closer together. He was gasping nonsense words into Quatre’s hair, trying to keep his legs out of the way so he could get even more out of the desperate little motions of their bodies as they rubbed together. He was trying to do too much at once. Quatre didn’t care. He was too caught up in what they were doing to care.

“Quatre,” Heero’s hands were working at the front of Quatre’s pants, making the blonde trapped under him writhe as he tried to get the pants off, “Quatre you have to let me. . .”

Quatre found himself nodding, helping Heero to pull his pants down. He couldn’t think. All his mind could take in was that Heero was touching him, and that he wanted Heero to touch him even more.

And, Quatre realized as Heero seized his erection between trembling hands, he wanted to touch Heero in return.

Grabbing at the waistband of Heero’s shorts, Quatre managed to get them down around Heero’s knees. His hands trembled as he found Heero’s penis, partly from the way Heero’s hands clenched over his, and partly from the realization that he could drive Heero wild in return.

Hands clenching on Quatre’s hips, Heero drove them together again. Quatre was shocked with the pleasure of their bodies pressed so close. His entire body fit so perfectly against Heero’s. He couldn’t pull himself away even long enough to finish Heero off properly with his hands. Heero ground his hips repeatedly against Quatre’s until they both came, each within seconds of the other.

Time stretched endlessly afterward as they lay still against each other, partially shocked by what they had done, but mostly just enjoying the aftermath of what had just happened. Slowly, Quatre became aware of the sticky mess between them. He knew they should go clean up, but right now he was so happy to be lying in Heero’s arms.

Heero didn’t protest to anything. He didn’t seem to mind when Quatre held his hand all the way down the hall, though they both knew they were extremely lucky not to run into anyone on the way. He let Quatre wash him, and even stayed in Quatre’s arms when asked. Quatre got the feeling Heero thought he had to make up for something, but he didn’t care. He was happy just to have Heero close for now.

* * *

Heero no longer made a point of seeking Quatre out, but it didn’t matter. As long as Quatre could be sure he was wanted he was more then willing to go to Heero. At the same time, Quatre became more and more experienced at drawing Heero to him. A passing touch and a meaningful glance were usually enough to make Heero follow him to a more secluded area.

Each time they were together, Quatre thought that he was becoming closer to Heero then ever before. When he was in Heero’s arms, he was sure no one had ever been so close to Heero.

“Heero,” Quatre barely let any sound into the word. Heero was dozing beside him, and he didn’t really want to wake him up. As far as he could tell Heero had not slept since their last battle, at least. Quatre had to wonder at himself for thinking like that. Time was now measured in conflicts and secret meetings, days meant very little to him anymore. He pushed Heero’s hair out of his face fondly. He must be exhausted.

“Mm?” Heero’s eyes half opened. Quatre smiled for him automatically.

“I have to go soon.” Quatre stroked Heero’s hair, wishing he could stay. “I’m sorry.”

Heero’s eyes drifted closed again. “Stay,” he commanded, tugging Quatre down into his arms. Quatre squeaked in surprise. Being sleepy didn’t seem to hinder Heero’s superhuman strength at all. He knew he should leave soon, at least if he didn’t want to risk them getting caught. At the same time, he really didn’t want to leave. He wished he could just doze off next to Heero.

Quatre watched Heero for a long time. He certainly seemed to be asleep. He reached for Heero gently, knowing that by now his soft touches weren’t threatening enough to wake Heero. What the other boy really needed was a good, long, deep sleep, but he feared Heero would not be able to enjoy that. He was such a light sleeper, even the slightest changes that took place around him could be enough to rouse him.

All Quatre really had to be optimistic about with Heero’s sleeping habits was that, when given opportunity, he could fall asleep just as quickly as he could wake up. He was probably used to just grabbing a few hours of sleep whenever he could.

With Heero’s head practically in his lap, Quatre watched for the little signs that would tell him Heero really was asleep, not just faking it. One would have to know Heero quite intimately to know that the way he locked up one shoulder and the almost imperceptible movements of his eyes under their lids were indications that he was dreaming.

Or maybe it was all a show put on for his benefit. Maybe, Quatre mused, Heero would never sleep with someone so close. Maybe he wanted Quatre to leave him, so that he could really sleep. Heero’s hand clenched in Quatre’s pants near his knee, as if he recognized who he wanted to be with, even in his sleep.

Quatre was easily swayed by such a gesture. His heart ached to touch Heero with all of the affection that he had stored up, but he wouldn’t disturb Heero’s sleep, not for anything. When Heero was next awake he would tell him. He would kiss him and offer his emotions for what they were: love. Quatre was in love.

But he never got that chance. He eventually had to leave Heero, and when next he awoke, it was to the start of a battle that would change the course of history. There was no time for words.

And later, as he struggled to breathe without pain, pressing one hand over the wound in his side, Quatre had to wonder if he would ever have another chance, or if his time had run out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to finish. I hit a block, wandered off and worked on other things, and it’s just so long even without the other distractions. I should put in a note that there will be four parts because the story has three breaks where a lot of time passes between one thing and the next. This part starts almost nine months after part one ended. This part and all those after it take place after the end of the series and completely ignore the events of Endless Waltz.

It had been months since the last battle. Things were finally settling into the mellowness of hard won peace. As for Quatre, he found himself struggling to keep his loneliness in check by burying himself in his work, looking after the business his father had left behind to him.

It was cold, but Quatre was too distracted to really feel it as he pored over the papers spread out on his kitchen table. The accounts weren’t adding up correctly, and he didn’t want to go to bed until he’d worked out a possible reason for it. It was enough of a problem that he almost missed a barely audible noise in the next room. Almost. Quatre still had good enough instincts to know when he heard someone else in an apartment that should have been empty.

Quatre found himself often cursing whatever tradition had compelled his father to decide he wanted a male heir, when it was more then likely that on of his sisters could have taken an interest in business and done just as good of a job as he could. Quatre just had to count himself lucky that he had been given enough schooling to know what he was doing. The only thing he really regretted was being alone. He didn’t want to hire a bodyguard or secretary to keep him company, since the only person he really wanted to see seemed lost to him now.

Taking all that into consideration, a burglar could almost be considered welcome company.

Still, Quatre was not taking chances. He rose silently and moved to the other side of the kitchen where he wouldn’t be immediately visible to anyone who entered. Cautiously he took a knife from the utensils lined up neatly to dry on the counter. It was a proper chef’s cleaver, and the closest thing he had to a proper weapon in his new apartment.

Quatre would not have been able to hear anything from his intruder if he had not been approaching the kitchen. There was a bare tile patch leading up to it, and other then that almost the entire apartment was covered in carpet thick enough to swallow up anyone’s footsteps.

As the nearly silent footsteps approached, Quatre moved to meet them, pressing himself against the wall beside the door and mentally calculating the advantage of close range combat against whatever weapon this person might be armed with. He didn’t have that much of a choice, his knife would be useless for defending himself if he was too far away.

Quatre had been counting on a surprise attack, but he was the one who ended up being shocked. The instant the door opened he darted forward, driving his knife for the intruder’s nearer arm in hopes of forcing the other to drop any weapon they had without actually killing them. This would probably have worked if his opponent had been armed. As it was, Quatre’s arm was caught and twisted behind his back, forcing him to drop the knife.

All this happened in only a matter of seconds. Quatre found himself caught, his weapon gone, before he even had a chance to recognize the person holding him immobile. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or just shocked.

“Heero!” A few tears gathered in his eyes from the flurry of emotions that responded to seeing the other man’s face again, though they could easily have been mistaken as tears of pain from having his arm bent firmly behind his back. Heero released his arm, and enfolded him in a gentle hug.

“Quatre,” he responded, acknowledging Quatre’s surprise. Quatre pushed his way out of Heero’s arms. He needed space to think. He couldn’t help feeling that Heero had abandoned him, though he would have honestly liked to stay wrapped in his warm arms.

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me before?” Quatre forced his voice to stay steady. “I tried to phone you, but you always refused to speak to me, and no matter how many times I tried to see you . . .”

Heero followed Quatre, wrapping his arms around his shoulders again in a silent apology. Quatre fell silent for a moment, then when it was plain Heero wasn’t going to answer his first question he asked, “why did you break in here?”

“The security staff wouldn’t let me in.” He said it so simply, as if it should have been obvious. Quatre shook his head.

“Why didn’t you wait until morning when you could have phoned me?” Quatre wasn’t even going to point out that this was the top floor, or the fact that he had made a point of installing his own security system. The impossibility of such arrangements just seemed to make it more likely for Heero to easily slip right past them.

“I couldn’t wait any longer.” Quatre reached up, about to put his arms around Heero’s neck, ready to offer forgiveness for eight desperately miserable months without him, but he stopped himself at the last minute.

“I don’t believe you.” He pulled away from Heero again, forcing the space between them to carry his anger. “I trust you to let yourself out, because I’m going to bed.” Quatre turned, refusing to look at Heero and stalked out of the kitchen, completely forgetting the paperwork that had been so important a few minutes ago, and pointedly flicking the lights off to leave Heero in the dark.

“I’ve been waiting too long for you to ignore me like this, Quatre.” Again Heero followed him, grabbing him by the shoulders, his words carried a touch of menace, turning them almost into a threat. Quatre whirled, his hand flying out, and was almost surprised when Heero kept still and let himself be slapped.

“Shut up! I’m the one who’s been ignored by you! You don’t have any right to claim that you ever wanted to see me, since you’ve already proven exactly the opposite!”

“I’ve wanted to see you again. Just because I haven’t been-”

“There is no again!” Quatre interrupted. “It was a fake romance! It meant nothing, as you have so painstakingly made clear.” Quatre whirled again, retreating from Heero towards his bedroom.

“If you were angry you would have thrown me out by now.”

Quatre paused just inside of his room and finally whispered, “as far as I’m concerned, you were never here.” He did not bother to turn on the lights, or change into his pajamas before hiding himself under the covers. Tears welled up in his eyes and this time he did nothing to stop them, pressing his face into his pillow.

Why did he have to show up now? Why not when Quatre had been practically begging to see him? Why? A shadow fell across Quatre’s bed, but he ignored it. After a long moment, the door was closed behind him with a soft click, leaving him alone in the dark.

For a single, painful moment all he wanted to do was go after Heero and apologize, but he couldn’t rise. He couldn’t move. It seemed that all he could do was press his face into his pillow to muffle his sobs. He had ignored physical pain, over a month stuck in the hospital, and the hurt of being ignored by Heero all without tears. Now he couldn’t help but break down.

Outside Heero leaned against the door to Quatre’s room, listening to the soft sounds of crying inside. He couldn’t have chosen a worse way to be reunited.  


* * *

Quatre woke up disoriented. His head ached after crying himself to sleep, but the ache in his chest was much more painful. Why had he driven Heero out? Now that his anger had faded it was much harder to piece together the reasons. That might have been his last chance, his only chance, to find his place with Heero.

Dimly Quatre was aware that he smelled something cooking. He couldn’t place any reason for the smell to be coming from his own apartment. He was alone here, wasn’t he?

It was too much to hope for, but Quatre couldn’t help himself. He dashed from his room, nearly flying into the kitchen and right into Heero, who had probably been coming to wake him up. As a reflex Heero’s arms came up around his shoulders, hugging him tightly as he stepped back to keep from overbalancing.

“I told you to leave,” Quatre gasped, no trace of anger in his voice, only wonder, “and you . . .” he tilted his head up to kiss Heero and found himself refused, Heero’s fingers on his lips holding him away.

“You want me to leave?” Quatre shook his head, pressing his face against Heero’s chest and clutching his arms as if he would never let go.

“I just want to know why you wouldn’t let me see you,” Quatre answered miserably, “even for a few minutes, you wouldn’t . . .” Heero seized him by the chin and forced his face up so he could look him in the eye.

“I tried to explain this to you before. I couldn’t keep from seeing things through to the end,” Heero’s tone would allow no argument, “the same way you had to return to the obligations left behind for you.”

“Then why are you here now?”

“Because I finally can be,” Heero moved to kiss Quatre and show him their argument was at an end, but this time it was Quatre who refused him, putting his hand up to block Heero’s mouth.

“I can’t accept that,” Quatre’s voice nearly broke, but he managed to hold it steady. “If you could have spared even an hour or two for me then I would forgive you for anything, but I won’t let you jerk me around.”

“Stop being so stubborn.”

“You know what your problem is? You’re too single minded,” Quatre was surprised to find himself feeling completely calm, though he was shaking in Heero’s arms, “how long will it take you to decide something else has become more important then me and disappear again?”

Heero stopped arguing. Quatre thought he might be realizing he’d said things the wrong way, but he didn’t really care at the moment. It was better to be hurt once now then over and over again later. He repeated that conviction in his head like a mantra. He wasn’t going to back down again. Heero released him, his hands falling away and making Quatre want to shiver at the loss.

“You can stay here as long as you want, but don’t expect to touch me anymore.” Quatre found himself incapable of making the words as cold as he would have liked. His voice sounded more tired then angry. He moved away from Heero, knowing he would end up reaching out to him if he stood where he was much longer.

“Where are you going?”

“To get ready for work.” Quatre didn’t intend to go anywhere with his clothes rumpled from sleeping in them and his eyes red from crying, and he was even less ready to stay home and have his conviction tested by Heero.

“It’s Sunday,” the tone of Heero’s voice indicated that even he knew most people stopped to rest on weekends.

“Does that make a difference?” Quatre knew Heero was never one to take off any sort of regular holiday from work.

“I made you breakfast,” Heero pointed out, moving to block Quare from leaving the room. Quatre guessed that cooking for another person wasn’t a gesture Heero made often.

“I never eat breakfast,” he also wanted Heero to know that it was going to take a lot more then that for Heero to get what he wanted. If he was aiming for Quatre’s forgiveness he was going to either have to admit Quatre was important to him, or prove he could balance work with his romantic life. Sadly, Quatre had begun to severely doubt the first option, and wasn’t entirely sure Heero could deal with the second.

Heero let him go, but as Quatre was in the shower, he had to wonder. He knew that calculating look he’d seen in Heero’s eyes. He’d seen it before on his father’s face when he was dealing with a particularly tricky client or delicate business problem. He found it almost thrilling coming from Heero. It gave him hope that Heero wasn’t going to give up on him so easily.

The hot water acted as a massage, calming Quatre as he tilted his face up to feel it running down his cheeks like warm tears. He was going to relent a little, he decided. His love for Heero rose in his throat, choking him until he had to lower his standards. If only Heero had told him before, when he had visited him in the hospital, that he wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. As it was Quatre had almost managed to convince himself that Heero had meant to lie to him.

After all, he was sure it would have been much easier for Heero to give him an explanation then to have spent so much time avoiding him.

Quatre closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had seen Heero before last night. Back when he was still detained in the hospital with that sword wound Dorothy had given him, trying to fall asleep until he heard someone else enter the room. Instinctively he had kept his breathing deep and even to feign sleep.

After a moment of silence, Quatre had felt a light touch on his hand. The person beside him shifted, and then the hand moved, brushing lightly across his chest and shoulder before cupping his cheek. A pause, and Quatre had felt the thumb stroking his cheek gently, almost as an afterthought.

Then the visitor was leaning over him, Quatre could almost sense them getting closer. The hand moved to cup his chin, the thumb stroking softly across his lower lip. The person was so close now, their nose brushed his. He remembered feeling the warm press of their breath on his mouth.

Quatre hadn’t been able to help it. He had opened his eyes to find Heero watching him, waiting for him to give up his ruse. Quatre felt stilled at the seriousness in his eyes. Even now there was that same somber feeling in his chest remembering the look. It had been obvious that Heero had not been fooled at all by Quatre’s pretending to be asleep, among other things. . .

Quatre’s breath had caught in his lungs, and as if opening his eyes had been some sort of signal, Heero had pressed his mouth down over Quatre’s. Both kept their eyes open, barely daring to blink. Quatre had felt sure that Heero was pressing something more then his breath and his mouth into him. There was something about the look in his eyes: firm, almost protective.

“I missed you,” Quatre whispered as they parted.

“I can’t be here all the time.” Quatre knew that. He still understood that in spite of the way he had acted today. He shouldn’t have to be told such a simple thing.

“Where were you?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Relena,” Heero had explained simply, “Noin asked me to.” Quatre had little trouble getting himself to believe that. Even as strongly as Relena believed in pacifism, it did add some clout to her argument when she had a newly retired war hero with her. He would be a nice ‘convert’ to show off, and a not so subtle threat, to those who entertained violent enough notions to see it.

“I’m glad you could come.”

“I have to leave soon.”

“Oh,” Quatre couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with Heero, but he didn’t want him to leave in this mood. “When can you come back?”

Heero shook his head, then twisted his body and leaned across the bed again, resting his elbows on either side of Quatre’s head. There had been a moment of hesitation, then they both moved at the same time. Quatre wrapped his arms around Heero’s shoulders as Heero bent down to kiss him again.

There was something painfully raw about that kiss. Quatre felt it in the way Heero’s hands gripped his shoulders, in the way he pressed down hungrily. He had devoured every half-formed noise that stirred in Quatre’s throat, savoring them. Quatre now understood what it had meant. Heero did not want to leave him. Even then he must have known how long it would be until they could meet again. Maybe he could even predict Quatre’s anger when they finally did meet again.

Quatre had mourned the loss when they finally had to separate and Heero stood up shakily, pulling reluctantly out of Quatre’s arms.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Heero had promised, and left. He had never looked back.

Only he hadn’t come back, Quatre thought, leaning his head against the tile wall of the shower. He had stayed away for too long, and now Quatre could not guess at how intact the feelings they had shared before were anymore.

Quatre finally stumbled out of the shower, feeling slightly dizzy from all of the hot water and steam. He dried, wrapped a towel around himself and was ready to go fetch his clothes. He was just going to let his hair dry on the way to work today.

Heero was waiting outside the bathroom with an armful of Quatre’s clothes. As soon as Quatre opened the door he stepped forward, and transferred them into Quatre’s arms, almost making him drop the towel that was covering him. He stared at Heero, surprised.

“This place was much too easy to break into,” he told Quatre firmly, “someone has to look after you.” Quatre wasn’t sure what to make of this pronouncement. Did this mean Heero was going to stay even after he’d picked a fight with him?

“I’ve never really wanted a bodyguard before,” he answered cautiously.

“You don’t have a choice.”

Quatre smiled. “I said ‘before.’ I’ve changed my mind.” At that moment Quatre’s heart warmed. He couldn’t help himself. This went far beyond forgiveness. He found himself caught up again in just how much he loved Heero.  


* * *

“I thought you worked on Sundays,” Heero’s voice was emotionless, as it had been ever since the day he had announced he was going to stay with Quatre. Quatre hated Heero’s newly cold, toneless voice, but he hated himself even more for slowly getting used to it.

He didn’t bother to reply to Heero. He had been up late the night before, but it was worth it. His plans were set and his work done so that he could afford to stop and take a day off for once.

Taking a break was something he had avoided doing before Heero had come back. It had been easier to bury himself in his work and not think about the problems in his love life. Now he found it hard to concentrate on his work. Heero would stay in his office every day, choosing a spot behind his desk where visitors couldn’t see him. Often his was sitting right at Quatre’s feet. Quatre couldn’t stand it.

It was beginning to feel like they would be doomed to waver back and forth like this forever. As soon as Quatre realized he just wanted to love Heero it was too late, because Heero had withdrawn from him, and by the time he came back to Quatre, he would already be feeling hurt and lash out again. It didn’t seem like this would ever end.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” Quatre invented. He didn’t want to be around Heero while he was acting. . . well, the way everyone else described him as acting.

Quatre hated to admit it, even to himself, but it wasn’t just in his heart that he missed Heero. His whole body ached when he remembered the private time they had spent together. He had missed the way Heero had kissed him and the way they had held each other for every moment that they could steal together. He remembered all too clearly the way it felt to have Heero’s hands on him.

Stepping into the bathroom, Quatre let one hand trail down to brush over his crotch through his pants. He was very strongly reminded of the first time Heero had touched him before he snatched his hand away.

Then again, why did he need to be embarrassed? No one was going to watch him. He didn’t even have Heero here with him. It was thinking of Heero that pushed him over the edge. Quatre gave up his shame and trailed his hand down his own chest, closing his eyes and trying to imagine that it was Heero touching him.

With a picture of Heero’s face set firmly in his mind, Quatre took great care in unfastening and removing his pants. He was narrating the scene to himself in his head. This was the way things should have been. It was months ago. Heero had just taken him home from the hospital. He was trying so hard to be gentle, but it was obvious what he wanted.

It had been too long since they had been together like this, and now they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Quatre imagined himself touching Heero in turn. They were twined together, hanging on to each other. Quatre shivered with delight as he told himself that the hand slowly stroking his erection was Heero’s. He felt so hot all over, but he was still shaking as if he was freezing with cold.

“Heero,” Quatre tried to stifle himself, and the cry came out muffled and strained. Quatre was unsteady on his feet. His legs collapsed under him and he fell to his knees, crying out at the sudden pain.

Hunched over on the floor, Quatre found himself more turned on than ever. His hands slid up and down his length clumsily, and he gasped Heero’s name again and again as if he was in pain.

The bathroom door slammed open. Quatre jerked his head up in surprise, hands clenching as he found Heero staring at him. His daydreams evaporated as the heat in his body doubled, and Quatre could not be sure if it was more shame or desire.

“Heero,” Quatre found himself unable to force out any other words. He remained, shaking, where he was on the floor. Heero must have thought he was in trouble to come barging in like that, but it was all too obvious what he was really doing.

Heero didn’t move. He just watched Quatre, that same hungry look in his eyes that Quatre had come to equate with desire.

“Quit staring at me!” Quatre’s breath was coming in short little gasps. He couldn’t stand to have Heero looking at him like that after he had been so cold for the past week. “Just do something!”

To be honest, Quatre expected ‘something’ to be turning and walking right out of the apartment. Heero, however, had other things in mind. He strode across the small space separating them and seized Quatre.

Quatre couldn’t even gather himself together enough to even cry out as Heero pushed him back against the nearest wall, forcing his legs apart so he would have room to touch him.

Quatre let his hands be flung away by Heero. Everything was so perfect, so familiar. His whole body arched up into Heero’s hands, remembering Heero’s eager grip and his rough touch. The only difference was the way Heero held him against the wall with one hand, not letting him up to touch or kiss, or repay Heero in any way.

Sobbing Heero’s name, Quatre knew he couldn’t hold out long. Heero was making it obvious that he wanted Quatre to come quickly, and there was nothing Quatre could do to stop himself from giving Heero exactly what he wanted.

Shuddering, Quatre squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lips, struggling not to offer Heero words that he would regret later. He was already coming, but Heero’s rough hand didn’t stop moving until he had slumped bonelessly against the bathroom wall, suddenly drained.

Heero stood, leaving Quatre where he sat, still trembling, and went to wash his hands. Quatre fought back tears. He didn’t understand how something that had felt so good could hurt so much.

“Does this disgust you?” Quatre cursed his voice for betraying him. He sounded broken, exactly how his heart had been since he had been forced to give up on being able to make contact with Heero. But that had been months ago. He had learned to hide it. Why was he so transparent now? Just because Heero had finally touched him?

Heero turned, and Quatre touched his fingers to the semen now splattered on his stomach. He held his dirtied fingers out to Heero.

“Does this disgust you?” Quatre whispered again, his throat feeling painfully raw, as if he had been screaming. Maybe he had without even realizing it.

“No,” Heero knelt beside him, gently taking Quatre’s hand between his. He hesitated, then touched his lips to the evidence of Quatre’s pleasure. Quatre found himself shivering again. He knew he was vulnerable, but he also had hope that Heero wasn’t going to take advantage of that.

“I love you.” Quatre put his clean hand on Heero’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Does that disgust you?”

“No.”

“Then please.” Quatre moved closer until his nose was touching Heero’s. “Forgive me. Stop being so cold. I know you’re human, even if no one else sees it. Let me love you.”

“Isn’t this what you call single minded?” Heero tucked Quatre’s head under his chin and he held the trembling blond against his chest. “How will you ever force me away?”

“I never want you to go away,” Quatre assured him. He was back in Heero’s arms where he belonged. Nothing else mattered at the moment, just Heero.

Heero couldn’t seem to stop himself from practically crushing Quatre as he hugged him as close as he could. Words didn’t mean anything as they clung to each other on the cold tile floor.  


* * *

By the time Quatre was putting on his nightshirt, he didn’t really remember what they had talked about since he had told Heero he loved him. He had stayed in Heero’s arms for almost an hour before letting him go. After that they had spoken a few times, about things that didn’t really matter. Quatre had found himself much more interested in the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Heero’s voice, no longer completely toneless, but back to normal.

Now that they weren’t fighting anymore, Quatre couldn’t help wondering what other options that opened up. Before the limiting factor to how much time they could spend together was how much time they could spend alone. So now why couldn’t they be together tonight?

Quatre felt himself blush as he thought of this. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted from Heero if they did spend the night together. Two incredibly different memories kept running through his head, Heero pressing him down into the bed, kissing him so throughly he couldn’t think, or Heero sleeping peacefully in his arms, exhausted but trusting him. Both possibilities were, he had to admit, equally alluring.

“Heero,” he leaned out into the hall to look for Heero, and was surprised to see Heero standing just outside his door. Whatever words he had intended to say somehow got lost as Heero put one hand on his shoulder, leaned in, and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

“I want to sleep with you tonight,” Those words sent a thrill down Quatre’s spine, not entirely without a touch of fear. At least knowing what Heero wanted would make it easier to respond.

“Anything you want,” He leaned up into Heero, tilting his head back and offering his mouth up to be kissed. Heero met him halfway, catching Quatre’s lower lip between his teeth and sucking on it as Quatre led him to the bed.

Quatre sat down, then slowly lay back, pulling Heero with him. For a moment Heero was on top of him, his hand slipping under Quatre’s shirt. Quatre gasped against Heero’s mouth and arched his back, wanting more.

Heero moved away, spooning himself around Quatre instead. Quatre wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. Heero had one arm around his chest, effectively holding him still, while his other hand slid into Quatre’s shirt and lay, seemingly harmless, on Quatre’s stomach.

All Quatre could really do was lie where he was in Heero’s arms, bewildered. He wasn’t sure this was what people usually meant when they said they wanted to sleep with someone. Heero let go of him for a moment to pull the covers up around them, then hugged him a little tighter, snuggling against him.

“Are you comfortable?” Quatre suppressed a sigh. If this was what Heero wanted, then he wasn’t going to do anything to discourage him. At least he was holding him, after Quatre had woken up lonely so many times, missing him . . .

“Wait,” Quatre managed to turn himself around in Heero’s arms so that he was facing him. He snuggled up to Heero’s chest, now much more content. Heero paused for a moment in surprise, then tucked Quatre’s head under his chin.

It only took a few minutes for Heero to fall asleep, but Quatre found it harder to get used to being held. He was uncomfortable only because now he knew he couldn’t move without disturbing Heero. It would take a while for him to get used to sleeping with someone.  


* * *

The next morning Quatre didn’t want to wake up, he’d had trouble getting to sleep in Heero’s arms. Heero was kneeling over him again, kissing at his face, his neck, any part of his body that was exposed. Quatre tried to push him away, trying to argue that he needed sleep and it was all Heero’s fault, but the words came out all slurred.

“Wake up.” Heero left him as Quatre’s mind started to gather itself back into wakefulness against his will. He blinked up at Heero, who was waiting expectantly for him to get up, then rolled over, pretending to ignore him. Heero leaned over him again, probably intending to shake him awake, and Quatre took him by surprise by grabbing him.

Quatre got a firm hold on Heero’s head and shoulders and hugged them against his chest. Heero had to stumble onto him as Quatre fell back into the bed. He rubbed his cheek affectionately against Heero’s hair. He considered this revenge for being up half the night for Heero.

“Let go,” Heero commanded. Quatre nuzzled his way down to Heero’s ear and flicked his tongue at it. What did Heero intend to do about it? Quatre was confident that Heero wasn’t going to pull a gun on him. Quatre was wide awake now, sitting up on the edge of the bed as he ‘tormented’ Heero. He alternated nipping at Heero’s ear and licking the skin just behind it. He was entangled enough with Heero that he would probably be thrown to the floor if Heero tried to escape him in one sudden movement, which was why he hadn’t tried that already.

Moving slowly, Heero reached up and wrapped his arms around Quatre, moving and settling his hands to be sure he had a good hold on him. Quatre bent even further over Heero, kissing his neck. Heero was going to give in to him, he thought happily. One of Heero’s hands slid under him, getting a good, firm grip on his backside.

Quatre had only a moment to be shocked at where Heero was grabbing him before Heero stood and hefted Quatre over his shoulder in one smooth movement. Now it was Quatre who was trapped. He was in too awkward of a position to struggle properly as Heero carried him out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

Again Heero took a moment to set himself up for his next move, making sure that Quatre wouldn’t end up hurt and have a reason to be too angry with him. He sat down, swinging Quatre around into his lap, and held him trapped there with both of his arms firmly around Quatre’s waist.

“Eat your breakfast.” Quatre ignored the food set out in front of him in favor of squirming and writhing in Heero’s lap in an attempt to loosen Heero’s hold on him.

“I told you I don’t eat breakfast,” Quatre argued, intent on working himself free. After a moment he realized Heero had changed the way he was holding him slightly, moving him forward onto his knees instead of pulling him back against his chest. Surely his chances of escape were increased in this position? Quatre wasn’t sure why Heero would chance his grip like this, but he hoped it was for the reasons he thought it was for.

Instead of trying to struggle, Quatre braced his hands on Heero’s knees and pushed his hips into Heero’s. He felt something pushing back at him. Something hard.

Quatre almost couldn’t believe it. He had thought Heero was too stubborn to let himself be aroused by Quatre, at least not without a lot of effort on Quatre’s part, but he was now being proven very wrong. Heero was breathing hard against his ear, and for a moment his hands rested on Quatre’s hips and pulled them back and down against himself.

“Heero, you,” Quatre turned his head, intending to tell Heero just how much he wanted this, only the look on Heero’s face stopped him cold. “Did I do something wrong?”

Heero stood up suddenly, dumping Quatre out of his lap and onto the floor. He was gone from the room before Quatre could even think of calling him back. Quatre scrambled to his feet, his backside aching from its run in with the tile floor, and gave chase.

“Wait! Heero, what’s wrong?” Heero had locked himself in the bathroom, and Quatre could hear the water running. Heero must be taking a cold shower. What a waste.

Dejected, Quatre returned to the kitchen. Why Heero was trying to erase what had just happened, he didn’t know, but he would have to fix that. He stared for a long moment at the breakfast Heero had made for him. Almost every day they argued about this. It was their ritual.

Quatre hadn’t told Heero, mostly because when they had been fighting over it was one of the only times Heero touched him, picking him up and trying to seat him at the table, but whenever he ate an early meal he had a tendency to fell sick later. In an uncharacteristic bout of meekness, Quatre tried to eat the food Heero had set out for him.

Heero was mad at him. Already he was mad, after they had made up so wonderfully the day before. Quatre muttered a few choice words into his breakfast. He had to stop or he was going to choke. Quatre hated the helpless feeling Heero always left him with. He didn’t just want Heero, he needed him. That look on Heero’s face, though . . .

The sound of running water had stopped as Quatre sat at the kitchen table trying to contain himself. He couldn’t face Heero now, or he might say something he didn’t mean. Worse yet, he felt as if he might end up in tears over Heero again. Quatre got up and bolted into his room. Hopefully Heero would assume he was getting ready. He didn’t want Heero to see him like this.

While cleaning himself up it was all Quatre could do to keep his fears about Heero from running through his mind. He was the one who had turned Heero on in the first place. What if Heero really was mad at him? It really wasn’t something that should be done at the breakfast table, Quatre knew, but that didn’t mean he should be rejected entirely. Maybe he was overanalyzing. They would have another chance later, even if Heero was a bit skittish.

That was it. Quatre was finally able to relax at those thoughts. Living together wouldn’t be that hard once they were both got used to it again. He would just have to be sure Heero was ready. There was nothing more to it then that.

“Quatre.” by the time Heero moved to his side Quatre was ready to face him. He turned and hugged Heero. He even enjoyed Heero’s damp hair dripping on his neck. Heero was his, and he wasn’t going to let go over a silly little problem like this one.

“I’m ready.” He looked up at Heero. There were more mischievous things he could ask, but he settled for an innocent, “are you alright now?”

“Yes. I didn’t hurt you when I . . . ?” His hand came around to touch Quatre’s backside, touching it as if to test for bruises. Quatre shook his head, smiling. Some day he would have to point out to Heero that grabbing someone else’s ass usually had a more sexual connotation, but for now he was quite happy to have any sensual contact, even if Heero didn’t mean it that way just yet.  


* * *

Quatre slumped against his desk, frustration making him sigh as a few papers fluttered to the floor around him. Heero’s head leaned against his knee. It was hard to concentrate as long as Heero was near him, and with Heero touching him so innocently it was even worse.

Heero reached up to stroke Quatre’s thigh soothingly. Quatre shivered, looking down at Heero where he was crouched between his legs. He watched, wide-eyed, as Heero planted a kiss on his knee.

“Heero,” Quatre murmured, sliding to his knees and wrapping his arms around Heero’s shoulders in one smooth movement. Instinctively his mouth found Heero’s in a soft kiss. Heero hugged him back, pulling him into his lap as they parted, then kissed again. Heero’s fingers ran up Quatre’s spine as they settled down together, half in and half out of the space under Quatre’s desk.

“You’re such a distraction,” Quatre scolded, unable to put any real annoyance behind the words, “I should be working.”

Heero didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. He just kissed Quatre again. Quatre pressed eagerly up into the soft brush of lips on lips as if he couldn’t get enough. It felt completely right when Heero kissed him. It was usually impossible to bring himself to want more, or to think of anything else as long as he was in Heero’s arms.

There was the subdued sound of his phone ringing from the top of Quatre’s desk. Heero’s grip was definitely tight enough to discourage any attempts to escape, even if Quatre had wanted to move from his little haven he wouldn’t have had much success. The ringing stopped and a few seconds later Quatre had forgotten about it completely. He was too focused in on Heero.

“Relax,” Heero instructed. Quatre had no trouble obeying. He had practically melted into Heero already, snuggling against his chest as Heero kissed all over his face, avoiding Quatre’s mouth in favor of teasing him by kissing his cheeks and nose, then his forehead and hair, until Quatre had to laugh at Heero’s playfulness.

Struggling to stop his giggles, Quatre captured Heero’s face between his hands and kissed him gently but throughly. Heero stilled, no longer teasing but letting Quatre simply kiss him.

“I needed that,” Quatre admitted, relaxing against Heero. His tension had finally eased. “Thank you,” he added, running one hand through Heero’s hair.

Heero ran one hand down Quatre’s back soothingly. He had known just when Quatre had needed him. Quatre smiled, both warm with the feeling of Heero understanding him so well, and amused at his own bliss, curled up on the floor. As long as Heero was next to him the position didn’t really seem to matter.

Suddenly the situation from that morning didn’t seem as dire as before. For all he really knew Heero had just not wanted to make him late, or some other strange reason that Quatre couldn’t really understand. The reason didn’t matter so much, really. He had Heero with him to hold and kiss and love. There was nothing to stop them from deepening things to whatever level they wanted.

“I really should thank you,” Quatre murmured. He slipped his hands between their bodies, quickly finding Heero’s member through his shorts. He was surprised at how quickly Heero’s body responded to his touch.

Heero was biting his mouth, trying not to make any noise as Quatre touched him. He leaned back so he could push up into Quatre’s hands even more.

Still nervous, Quatre whispered, “you won’t let go of me?” He suddenly needed Heero to tell him that this was what he wanted, and that he wanted it just as much as Quatre did.

Before Heero could collect himself enough to answer the door to Quatre’s office opened, making both of them freeze instinctively in their hiding place, listening.

“Mr. Winner, there’s . . .” the voice trailed off as Quatre’s rather frazzled-sounding assistant realized that there was no one sitting at the desk. Quatre hoped she wasn’t going to check for him more closely, as he was in a rather compromising situation at the moment.

“Well, I can’t imagine where he could have gotten to,” Quatre heard her telling someone. He shook with suppressed laughter. The whole situation was quite ridiculous.

“Yes, I’ll let him know you want to speak with him,” She assured whoever was with her. The visitor’s voice was too low for Quatre to pick out words they spoke to his assistant. Then there was the sound of the door closing behind them as Quatre let out a little laugh.

“I should just hide down here whenever I don’t want to talk to someone,” he joked.

Heero relaxed his grip slightly. Quatre wasn’t sure if Heero was relieved or annoyed. “You’re not going to stop now,” he reminded Quatre.

If Heero wanted to be touched, than Quatre was quite glad to go along with it. He pushed his hands into Heero’s shorts without hesitation, watching him lay back under the desk, trying not to moan and offering himself up to Quatre’s hands.

It was intoxicating to feel as if he was the one commanding Heero. Quatre’s hands were steady but unmistakably eager. He drew out Heero’s erection, watching his own hand move slowly up and down its length.

Alternating teasing and stroking, Quatre found himself unable to set a definite rhythm. He would rather tease Heero for a few minutes than end this quickly. Heero’s reactions to everything he did were fascinating. Already he was clutching the carpet, trying to keep still under Quatre’s hands.

“Does this feel good?” Quatre was somewhere between wonder and teasing. He squeezed Heero experimentally, producing a stifled moan from his lover.

“Hurry up,” Heero commanded through clenched teeth, “now.”

Quatre began to stroke Heero quickly, watching Heero push his hips up to meet every touch. He didn’t mind finishing Heero quickly when he reminded himself that they would be able to touch like this as often as they wanted now.

Gasping wordlessly, Heero jerked under Quatre’s touch, coming into his hands. Quatre stared, drinking in the sight of Heero slowly relaxing and falling back to the floor, trembling in the aftermath of the pleasure Quatre had given him.

Quatre reached up, feeling around in one of his desk drawers until he found a packet of tissues. He lovingly wiped Heero clean while Heero was still too busy recovering to do it himself.

They held one another happily for a long stretch of silence after that. When he finally returned to work, Quatre found himself able to confront problems he had been avoiding before. The soft touch of Heero’s hand on the back of his knee made them so much easier to deal with. After all, the ups and downs of his first real relationship were becoming more complex than most of the problems he’d ever dealt with before, and they were becoming infinitely more important to him.  


* * *

“Mm,” Quatre sighed as Heero’s fingers caressed his bare skin in passing. They slid down, stopped at his waist and then slipped away to tease in his hair instead.

“Are you all right, Quatre?” Quatre knew he was blushing. He couldn’t help himself, but he couldn’t let go of Heero either. He moved, pressing up into Heero’s touch with a mixture of trust and love.

“I’m so hot,” Quatre gasped. Still, he moved a little closer. He would welcome the heat of Heero’s body above any other sensation right now.

“Quatre,” there was just the slightest warning note in Heero’s voice.

“I love you,” Quatre whispered. This innocent phrase managed to break down nearly every resistance Heero had ever put up against any overzealous affection.

“I’m going to put it in,” Heero warned him, and Quatre nodded to show he understood, relaxing against Heero trustingly.

Heero shifted against him, and a moment later the loud announcements of coming attractions filled the room. Quatre squirmed around in Heero’s lap, getting comfortable.

“If you’re so hot, then don’t press up against me.” Heero advised him. Quatre shook his head. He was quite happy with where he was, sprawled across the couch with his head and shoulders in Heero’s lap and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.

“I like it here, thank you,” he replied happily. He had no intention of moving away from Heero. “Now hush or you’ll miss the movie.”

A few moments later Quatre found himself board with the workings of fake intrigue and stereotyped characters. He pushed up the hem of Heero’s shirt and kissed the skin he exposed. Heero ruffled his hair fondly.

In another few minutes they were in a tangle on the floor. The sounds of explosions from the television going completely unnoticed as they pressed mouths and bodies together. Heero’s tank top now dangled from the slowly revolving ceiling fan

“Mm,” Heero moaned as Quatre’s fingers caressed his newly bare skin. Quatre smiled to himself as he pulled them away teasingly, stroking Heero’s hair instead. Their evening was turning out to be a romantic one after all.  


* * *

It had taken Quatre a few days to put together as close as he could get to a romantic dinner. He found himself wishing he had a greater talent for cooking. It had never been important before, but now that he wanted everything to be perfect for Heero the whole process was beginning to feel impossible.

He hadn’t meant to even try something very hard. As far as he was concerned soup of any kind was the least ambitious recipe he could find. Maybe it was supposed to be stew? The broth was much too thin for stew, though Quatre had the uneasy feeling that he had forgotten something.

He had learned from one of his sisters that when they added vegetables to ramen they needed to cook longer, so he had been very carful to make sure he spent a lot of time on those. Only now he thought he had overdone it a bit. He podded one of the chunks of carrot with his spoon and it all but dissolved. What was he going to do? He couldn’t make Heero eat this.

Quatre practically collapsed at the kitchen table, miserable. He should have gone with his first instinct and taken Heero out for dinner. His plans weren’t working out at all, and he was pretty sure it was a little too late to fix the dinner now.

Probably having been alerted to possible danger by the sudden silence after over an hour of noise, Heero pushed the kitchen door open halfway so he could check on Quatre. After a moment of watching Quatre silently he slipped inside and stood over him, leaning down to wrap his arms around Quatre’s shoulders. He was probably worried, since Quatre had been so excited about this all day and now was suddenly so still and depressed.

Leaning over Quatre, Heero used his position to pull Quatre’s hands out of his lap and check them for injuries. Quatre smiled almost bitterly. Heero probably didn’t know what else could have changed his mood so suddenly.

“I’m fine,” he reassured Heero, standing quickly. Sitting and moping was just going to make him feel worse. He might as well get it over with. Earlier he would have protested when Heero shadowed him around the kitchen, helping him set the table, but now he figured things had fallen apart anyway. He might be better off just treating the whole thing like a normal dinner.

Quatre’s mind returned to the bottle of wine he had picked up earlier. It had been surprisingly easy, considering that in most places he would still be considered under the legal drinking age. Then again, most people probably assumed that someone who lived on their own in a penthouse apartment was old enough to drink. He might as well bring it out. At least one part of the dinner could go the way he had planned.

Quatre fetched the wine bottle from the fridge where he had been letting it chill, then began rummaging through the drawers looking for the corkscrew. He knew he had seen one, only he couldn’t find it now. Heero caught him from behind again, and it only took Quatre a moment to realize he had stolen the tool Quatre needed.

“What is this?” Quatre couldn’t look around at Heero from his position, but he had a good idea what Heero was talking about. To clarify he added, “you don’t drink.”

“I don’t,” Quatre admitted, “but it’s been a month since you came, and I wanted to celebrate.” Quatre was limp in Heero’s arms. All he really wanted now was to go to bed with Heero curled around him, like he had been every night. Tomorrow he could try again.

“Is that what this was all about?” Quatre nodded. “Come here.” Quatre found himself turned around and kissed throughly, Heero pressing him back against the counter, his mouth pressing Quatre’s open and deepening the kiss to the point where Quatre’s mind stopped working.

Quatre made a contented noise against Heero’s mouth, letting himself be comforted. This was what he had been hoping for. Slowly Heero released him, then led him to the table. He didn’t really need to say anything to make Quatre feel better after that, but he was willing to try anyway.

“You’re . . .” he hesitated, thumb stroking Quatre’s cheek as he fumbled for suitable words, “sweet. Thank you.” Quatre felt better already. At least Heero wouldn’t be annoyed just because he turned out to be a bad cook. Still, he didn’t want to take that chance if he didn’t have to.

“Maybe we should go out to eat, though. I mean, I don’t think . . .” Heero placed a silencing finger over his lips.

“You made it, so I’m going to eat it.” Quatre blushed. If Heero had made up his mind to be nice about this, then he really couldn’t bring himself to argue. Then again, Heero was the kind of person who found a fly in his soup and called it extra protean, so the fact that he was willing to brave Quatre’s cooking might have just as much to do with not caring as it had to do with affection for Quatre.

Either way, Quatre couldn’t protest any longer. He sat across the table from Heero, watching him while still trying to keep his head down shyly. His whole face burned with embarrassment.

“Quatre,” Heero was watching him carefully, he paused in the middle of serving the wine. Quatre clenched his fingers around the glass, tried unsuccessfully to stop blushing, then downed his drink in one go.

“I’m just a little hot,” he told Heero. He found he felt better after drinking something, a little looser, and he could look Heero in the face again.

“Don’t drink too much,” Heero cautioned him, but he refilled Quatre’s glass just the same.

After that, Quatre drank slower, but he didn’t really have any intention of following Heero’s instructions at all. All he could think was that if he could just lessen the heat that had gotten hold of his body, then he could stop. The wineglass was cool in his hands and each drink he took would quench the heat for a few moments, but the more he drank the hotter it seemed to make him. Heero finally reached across the table, caught his wrist, and pinned it on the table.

“That’s enough,” Quatre looked up at Heero, surprised, as he got up and pulled Quatre to his feet. Quatre stumbled, a bit unsteady on his feet, then he collapsed against Heero, trusting his lover to catch him. His head pounded, heat rushed to his cheeks again, but he was now much more aware of Heero then of his discomfort. His hands found Heero’s shoulders, then slid lower, touching his chest, then his waist . . . 

Heero caught Quatre around the waist and lifted him. Quatre found he didn’t mind. His arms slipped around Heero’s shoulders and he rested his cheek on the top of Heero’s head, content. Heero shifted his grip, one hand resting on Quatre’s backside to steady him.

“Heero,” Quatre murmured, “I’m so hot.” He was extremely glad that Heero was hanging on to him. He liked to have Heero holding him.

“I’m putting you to bed.” Quatre whimpered, hurt. Heero wanted to be rid of him and he hadn’t even done anything wrong. It wasn’t fair.

“Don’t you dare let go of me.” Quatre his fingers clenched tightly in Heero’s hair, defying Heero’s attempts to put him down.

“Let go,” Heero commanded.

Quatre didn’t bother to reply. He pressed his face into Heero’s hair instead. Heero smelled so nice. He didn’t want to let go.

“Quatre,” Heero gave Quatre a little smack on the backside as best he could without dropping him. He wanted to put Quatre to bed, not stand beside their bed all night while Quatre clutched his hair.

“Don’t let go of me,” Quatre insisted. His grip was weakening.

“I’m going to go to bed with you. You can hold me all you want if you just let go of my hair.”

Quatre considered this offer for a minute, then decided it sounded worthwhile and released Heero. He didn’t struggle at all as Heero lay him down and moved to lie beside him. Heero considered him for a moment, then began to remove Quatre’s clothes.

“What are you doing?” Quatre didn’t try to fend off Heero’s hands at all. He did like the feel of Heero’s hands on him.

“You said you were hot.” Heero stripped off Quatre’s shirt and got to work on his pants. Quatre accepted this and lay still as Heero removed his pants.

“Heero?” Quatre snuggled up against Heero. He found that the other pilot was just right for snuggling.

“If you get cold, I’ll warm you up.” Heero promised. That was more than enough for Quatre. He settled happily into Heero’s arms.  


* * *

The next morning, Quatre found Heero on top of him, covering him completely. He couldn’t remember the night before all that well, only that Heero had been annoyed at him for drinking too much. But he hadn’t drunk too much, had he?

“Heero?” Quatre gave his sleepy lover a little shake, “why am I naked?”

“Mm,” Heero didn’t want to be disturbed. Quatre wondered if he had kept Heero up. It was pretty unlikely that they had done anything if Heero still had all of his clothes on, but Heero had given him one-way pleasure before.

“Heero, did you take my clothes off?” Quatre wanted to know. He did have a dim memory of Heero stripping him, but it might have been a dream. He couldn’t be sure.

“Because I love you,” Heero mumbled sleepily into Quatre’s chest, where his face was currently hidden.

Quatre blushed. What was that supposed to mean?  


* * *

“Aren’t these getting a bit uncomfortable?” Quatre slid one hand over the tight, black shorts he was referring to. Heero had grown since they had first met, especially in one particular spot. At one time Quatre would have blushed just thinking about it, but he felt infinitely more comfortable with talking to Heero now. Quatre’s hand moved up Heero’s thigh, but stopped short of touching him anywhere intimate.

Heero gave him a mildly startled look, covering Quatre’s hand with his own. He didn’t seem to realize what Quatre was talking about.

“Aren’t they getting a little tight?”

“They’ve always been a little tight.”

“I meant, maybe I could help you find something more comfortable.”

An hour later Quatre was wishing he hadn’t said anything. He was completely unsure of how he was supposed to act while helping Heero pick out new clothes. He sat, trying to be nonchalant. What was particularly embarrassing for him was Heero’s sudden new interest in leather. He probably liked the idea of something that could stand up to rough treatment as well as the shorts had, but Quatre doubted that other people would be able to understand that.

“Quatre, come in here.” Quatre shot to his feet, blushing. He was a bit afraid of seeing Heero in leather. Before he could escape, however, Heero reached out, grabbed him from behind, and pulled him into the dressing room.

Quatre tried to keep himself from staring, covering his blush by pretending to cough so he could turn his head away. Heero looked perfectly delicious in leather. Those pants hugged his legs, making him look beyond sexy. Quatre wanted desperately to touch him.

“You look good,” Quatre told him.

“You think so?” Heero grabbed hold of Quatre’s hands with his own and ran them over his legs. Quatre smiled, knowing Heero had to be teasing him.

“How could I not stare?” Quatre tilted his face up to kiss Heero. That was something else that had changed. There had been a time when he hadn’t had to look up to kiss Heero. Now Heero had gotten just tall enough that he could easily lift Quatre off his feet to keep him from going anywhere while he kissed him.

“Wait,” Quatre laughed, hanging on Heero’s shoulders, suddenly unsteady, “not here.” Heero ignored his half-hearted protests in favor of nipping at his neck.

An older man chose that moment to walk into the men’s dressing room. He took one look at the two of them and walked right back out. Quatre went limp with laughter, clinging to Heero so that the taller boy couldn’t have put him down if he wanted to.

“Maybe. . .” Quatre tried to speak in between giggles, “you should pass on the leather.”

“Why? You certainly like it.” Heero was in a much more flirtatious mood then normal. Setting Quatre down at last, he backed Quatre up against the wall and pinned him with his own body. This was one place where this should not have been happening, but Quatre couldn’t help himself. Making out with Heero in a department store dressing room was the best thing that had happened to him all week.  


* * *

Quatre’s head hurt. He threw one arm across his eyes to block out the light. For some reason everything around him was too much. The apartment was too bright and too hot. Even the small sounds Heero made as he moved around were much too loud.

Quatre curled up on his side, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the throbbing in his head. He was suddenly super-aware of everything, right down to the vibrations made as Heero as he leaned against the back of the couch. Everything went right to Quatre’s throbbing head.

“Quatre?” Heero brushed his hand over Quatre’s forehead. He must be worried. Quatre couldn’t quite work up the strength to reassure him. He turned over to press a little closer to Heero’s hand. It was cool, and the gentle touch felt nice.

“Sorry. I just have a headache.” He felt a little better having Heero so close to him. After all, a distraction might help. Somehow, though, he was beginning to doubt that more and more.

“Again?” Quatre tried to nod, but stopped quickly. Even that hurt. Heero reached down, attempting to pick Quatre up, even though it was awkward from his position behind the couch.

“It’s not like I can’t walk,” Quatre scrambled to his feet, moving away from Heero, feeling almost embarrassed at the throbbing in his head now. A little headache did not mean he had to be pitied. He was fine, perfectly fine. Though it was a little hard to stay frustrated with Heero for it.

“I’m going to bed,” Quatre announced, stalking out of Heero’s sight and into the bedroom. He was tempted to climb into the bed with his clothes on, but he made himself change into his nightclothes, even if he did indulge himself a little by not turning on the lights. He felt more comfortable with the dim light in their bedroom. Anything more hurt his eyes.

As Quatre climbed into his bed, a shadow fell across him from the door. Heero was standing in the doorway, looking in on him. For a second Quatre found himself looking forward to having Heero coming to lay down beside him. He wanted to be held, distracted from the pain by having Heero close to him. He wanted attention.

Heero finally left, moving out of the doorway. Quatre sighed, curling up under the covers. Heero must not be ready for bed yet. He would just wait a little while for him. He wouldn’t have too much trouble staying awake for Heero. It was hard to relax at the moment.

Already Quatre had convinced himself that he would feel better if Heero would just come and hold him. By the time he finally fell asleep he was wishing he had let Heero put him to bed. Even after he was sleeping peacefully, Heero never came to bed.  


* * *

When Quatre woke up alone, his heart sunk with disappointment. Heero had never come to him, not that whole night. Even though his headache was gone, he thought he felt worse now. Quatre forced himself out of bed and into the living room, looking for Heero. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scold Heero or to snuggle up with him.

Heero was asleep on the couch. The blanket he had wrapped around himself was sliding off his shoulders to pool on the floor. Quatre stopped, considering him.

“Did you sleep here all night?” he asked quietly after a long moment of silence. Heero turned over to look at him sleepily. “I missed you.”

“You wanted to be left alone.”

Quatre leaned over the back of the sofa, unconsciously mimicking the pose Heero had taken the night before. He didn’t want to be pitied, but he did want attention, but he didn’t want to admit it either. “I don’t know what I want,” was all he could say. He knew Heero didn’t understand.

Heero sat up and, never one to put up with an obstacle, simply half-lifted, half-dragged Quatre over the back of the couch and into his lap. Quatre wrapped his arms around Heero’s neck obligingly, leaning his head against Heero’s chest.

“Are you feeling better?” Quatre nodded, and the movement didn’t hurt this time. “Then you should get ready for work.”

“Wait,” Quatre requested, “just a few more minutes.”

Heero didn’t protest. He didn’t even ask Quatre why. He just let Quatre stay until he felt sure enough of himself to let go of the comfort of being held.

Quatre didn’t know what to think. Even if they didn’t understand each other, they could still love each other, right? He didn’t know what he could do but to keep believing in that.  


* * *

For their second month anniversary Quatre felt ready to try cooking for Heero again. He was a little embarrassed at his own lack of cooking skills. Most of the time Heero insisted on cooking because he didn’t like cooking, and he wasn’t really good at it anyway, but Heero was important enough to him to prompt him to try again.

Smiling, Quatre reached for the wine he had managed to smuggle past Heero, and filled the two wineglasses on the table. Heero said didn’t want him to get drunk again, but Quatre privately suspected that he didn’t mind.

“You can come in now,” Quatre announced happily. He was very proud of himself. He had finished with no emotional breakdown this time.

“It’s not that important,” Heero told him. Quatre frowned. At least this time Heero knew why Quatre was trying to do something special for him, but he didn’t like the way Heero was dismissing his efforts.

“Yes it is,” Quatre argued, “because you’re important.”

Heero sat down without any further complaint, but he was studying Quatre carefully. He was so intent on whatever it was he was trying to discover about Quatre that he didn’t notice the wine until he took an absent-minded sip.

“Quatre,” he started to reprimand, “how did you get this?”

Quatre blinked innocently. “I asked for it,” he explained quickly. He didn’t intend to give Heero any details that would help him keep Quatre from bringing it home in the future, though that might make sneaking it past him even it more fun. Quatre loved a good challenge.

“How did you get it in here?” Heero demanded. Quatre didn’t know if he should find it funny to see Heero so agitated. He was on his second glass already, and Quatre wondered if he was trying to drink all of it before Quatre could have too much.

“That’s a secret.” Quatre smiled. If Heero didn’t think he could be sneaky once in a while than that was his problem.

“Why do you keep bringing this home?”

Quatre shrugged. There were a lot of reasons that he wanted to, most of which he wasn’t sure if they were strictly true and he didn’t want to tell Heero about even if they were. It was just supposed to be this traditional, romantic thing. Most of the time Quatre privately thought tradition could just be damned and let people get on with their lives, but romantic was something he had been actively pursuing since Heero had started living with him.

“Because it’s fun,” was the quickest, if not the most accurate response. Besides, it honestly had been fun getting it past Heero.

Heero kept watching him without response. Quatre gave up on conversation for the moment and tried to concentrate on his food. Keeping his eyes down so that he wouldn’t have to watch Heero staring at him, he took a quick bite.

Quatre wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t have messed up this badly. He tried to get the expression of disgust off of his face and took another bite, hoping that this one would taste normal.

Salt! How much salt had he put in, anyway? It couldn’t have been this much. Quatre gulped his wine, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Now he knew why Heero had been drinking so much. Heero reached over and calmly refilled his glass, and Quatre felt tears prick at his eyes.

“You can’t eat that!” Quatre snatched Heero’s plate away. He couldn’t believe that Heero hadn’t said anything. After all the work he had put into it he couldn’t make Heero eat something that tasted so awful.

“Calm down,” Heero reached for his food, but Quatre stepped back out of his reach. Heero pursued him until he managed to back Quatre into a corner. It wasn’t fair of Heero, Quatre thought privately, to pin him to the wall just to get his plate back.

For a minute they were pressed together, and Quatre caught his breath. He was afraid to catch Heero’s eye, but he was sure Heero had to feel the same thrill at the contact. As soon as possible Quatre escaped and stumbled back to the kitchen table. It wasn’t going to do him any good to be turned on by Heero right when Heero was annoyed with him.

“Heero, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. . .” With his hands shaking he reached for his wine, hoping a drink would help to steady him.

Heero grabbed the glass out of his hand. Quatre didn’t protest as Heero drank it, and in one swift movement swept Quatre into his arms.

“What are-” was all Quatre had time to get out before Heero was kissing him. He relaxed almost instantly, melting into Heero’s arms. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Heero’s neck, letting his mouth fall open for Heero’s tongue to press inside.

“You don’t want dinner?” Heero asked, as soon as he was done ravishing Quatre’s mouth.

Quatre knew exactly what Heero wanted to hear, and he was glad to give him what he wanted. “I can’t make you eat that,” he leaned a little closer to whisper in Heero’s ear, noticing for the first time the slight flush on Heero’s cheeks, “let’s just go to bed.”

Heero lifted him easily. Not wasting time trying to argue that he could walk on his own, Quatre hung on to Heero’s shoulders and kept kissing him. The whole situation felt vaguely familiar, but Quatre was too busy enjoying himself to think too deeply on that.

Heero dumped him unceremoniously on their bed. Though Quatre let out a little whimper at the treatment, it was more from desire than fear. He couldn’t remember Heero acting like this since he had been using the ZERO system.

Between the slight reddening of Heero’s face and the way his hands fumbled as he tried to get Quatre’s clothes off, Quatre strongly suspected that he was a little drunk. He had to wonder if he wasn’t drunk as well, but the heat in the pit of Quatre’s stomach was too familiar for that. This was lust, not drunkenness. He was being intoxicated by Heero’s touch, nothing more.

“I’ll do it.” Quatre was just as eager as Heero, and he didn’t want to wait for Heero’s fumbling hands. Heero didn’t want to let go of him, but between the two of them the clothes eventually came off. Quatre was already shivering in anticipation of Heero’s hands on him, but this time he wasn’t content to just let Heero touch him.

Heero reluctantly took his hands off of Quatre to remove his shirt, and Quatre seized his chance. In a flash he tackled Heero onto his back. Heero stared up at him, not sure how to deal with this new behavior. Quatre managed to get the front of Heero’s jeans open and shove one hand inside, distracting Heero enough that he wouldn’t want to try switching their positions back.

Moaning, Heero pushed himself up into Quatre’s hand. Quatre couldn’t help staring. Heero was at his mercy for once. Even as he worked off Heero’s pants and the black shorts under them, Heero did not even try to resist.

Quatre’ hands shook, and he couldn’t be sure if it was from fear or excitement. He didn’t let that interfere with what he was doing to Heero. His grip was firm, and each gasp and moan from Heero spurred him on.

Obviously struggling not to writhe under Quatre’s touch, Heero reached up and dragged Quatre down so that he could kiss him desperately.

Mouth sliding against Heero’s, Quatre squeezed roughly on Heero’s erection. The sounds Heero made into his mouth were wonderfully erotic to him. He rubbed against Heero’s thigh, trying to ease the pressure building up in his head. It was the sight and the feel and the taste of Heero losing control under him that made him come more than the friction.

Heero didn’t stand a chance under such treatment. He was crying Quatre’s name after only a few seconds, urging him on. Quatre still clutched lightly at his member even after Heero had finished shuddering under him.

“Quatre,” Heero gasped, pulling him down and pressing his face into Quatre’s chest. Quatre stroked his hair fondly. By tomorrow he suspected that everything would go back to normal, but he had enjoyed giving Heero a taste of what it was like being the helpless one.

Quatre soothed Heero for several minutes before he could loosen his grip enough to get up and get a washcloth. Heero nearly purred under his hands as Quatre cleaned him off.

He had to be drunk. Quatre was disappointed. Heero was not acting like his firm, determined to stay in control, self. He almost wished he could do things like this to Heero more often. All he could think now was that Heero had better remember this in the morning.

Quatre let Heero relax for a bit after playing with him. He wandered, cleaning up the remains of their ill-fated dinner and fantasizing about the way Heero had looked when Quatre had made him come. By the time he got back to bed Heero had dozed off waiting for him.

Curling around Heero, Quatre lay a soft kiss against his hair. He sincerely regretted that he probably wouldn’t get another chance to do that to Heero, but the simple fact that Heero spent every night in his bed could removed almost all of the sting from any misfortune.

“I love you,” he reminded Heero softly without waking him.  


* * *

Heero did not want to wake up the next morning. It took the promise of painkillers and coffee, and almost twenty minutes for Quatre to coax him to take his head out from under the pillow.

Quatre wondered if he should remind Heero of his performance the night before, but he didn’t think this was the best time. He settled for cuddling Heero in his arms until his headache had receded to a manageable level.

“I should have expected this with the way you were acting last night,” Quatre couldn’t help commenting. He kept his voice soft, knowing how much he hated loud noises whenever he got a headache.

Heero blushed, and though Quatre felt much more satisfied than decency allowed, he managed to keep it to himself.  


* * *

Heero was trying to get out of bed, but Quatre didn’t want to let go of him. For the past two weeks Heero had hardly wanted to go to bed with him at all, and most mornings when Quatre woke up he was already up and dressed. Quatre was quickly getting fed up with this.

“Heero,” Quatre nuzzled against Heero’s neck, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Let go.” Heero’s voice was flat. Quatre’s ears had become so tuned to the sound of Heero’s voice that he knew the delicate inflection of anger when he heard it. Instead of releasing Heero, he clung a little closer and tilted his face up to kiss Heero’s cheek.

“Love you,” Quatre’s words were muffled by him pressing his face back into Heero’s neck, but he knew that Heero could hear him.

Heero did not react the way he normally did. Not at all the way he was supposed to, in Quatre’s opinion. He forced Quatre’s arms open and flung him away. Quatre stared up at him, hurt.

“What-?”

“That isn’t the answer to everything!” Quatre was too stunned to do anything but watch as Heero got out of bed and left the room. His wrist hurt where Heero had grabbed it, but he ignored that. There was a much worse feeling chilling his heart.

“Heero,” Quatre called softly, stepping out of the bedroom. He was almost afraid to touch Heero right now. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.” Heero’s frustration was plainly tangible in the air between them. Quatre’s didn’t believe him for a second.

“I know something’s wrong.” Quatre forced down his nervousness and placed his hand on Heero’s arm. “Just let me help.”

Heero didn’t try to shake Quatre off this time, and Quatre interpreted this as a good sign. He took a step closer, “I love you. I just want to help.”

Heero snatched his hand back. “I don’t want to hear about it!” Quatre automatically stepped away from him. He couldn’t expect Heero to react that way.

“I’m sorry,” Quatre apologized quickly. That seemed to agitate Heero even more. He tensed up, and Quatre could tell he was trying to hold himself back.

Quatre edged around Heero and slipped back into their bedroom. He didn’t want to see Heero’s anger, and he was actually afraid to be too close to Heero right now.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with Heero. The harder he tried to make Heero happy, the more frustrated Heero would become with him. There was no way for him to win. Tears burned in Quatre’s eyes but he wasn’t going to let them fall. He refused to cry over Heero, no matter how he acted.

Quatre didn’t know how mach later it was when Heero finally followed him back to bed. He tensed up, expecting Heero to be cruel to him, but instead found his cheek cradled gently in Heero’s hand.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Heero apologized.

Quatre was about to say that it was all right and hope that things went back to normal, but somehow he didn’t feel like forgiving Heero just yet.

“You should be sorry,” Quatre turned his back on Heero angrily. His arm still ached from Heero twisting it.

“I am.” Heero’s arms slipped around his waist. Quatre could hardly believe Heero. He seemed to be happier about being rejected than he had about anything in weeks. Heero kissed the back of his neck, then his ear. With soft kisses he worked his way around to Quatre’s lips.

“Forgive me?” Heero requested. He was face to face with Quatre now. Quatre honestly couldn’t help forgiving him for having a bad temper from time to time, but he had another idea. He knew it would be selfish of him, but. . .

“Make me.”

Heero was ready to meet Quatre’s challenge. He hugged Quatre in his arms, holding him close while still managing to be gentle, and lay him back on the bed. He showered Quatre’s face with light kisses until Quatre really had no choice but to give in.

Quatre had to reach up and lay his finger across Heero’s mouth so that he could talk, “I forgive you.”

Heero looked almost disappointed that Quatre had given in so easily. He sat up and started to get to his feet, but Quatre wasn’t about to let him leave. He grabbed a handful of Heero’s hair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Quatre demanded. He wasn’t going to let Heero run away from him so easily. Heero actually gave him a tiny smile and lay back down beside him. Only once he was sure Heero was going to stay put did Quatre allow himself to relax. He suspected that they were both happier this way, though Heero would have refused to admit it.  


* * *

Quatre snuck up behind Heero and wrapped his arms around him as he finally left the bathroom, “you should have waited for me.”

“If I did that I’d never get clean.”

Quatre smiled. He didn’t know if Heero was teasing but he was inclined to suspect that he was.

“And now you’re all dressed too,” Quatre tried his best to sound disappointed, “I never get to have any fun anymore.”

“Not now,” Heero seemed more depressed than normal lately, and in the past few days his depression had prompted him to be impatient with Quatre, no matter what Quatre tried to do for him. Quatre was trying his best to make Heero happy, but his efforts only seemed to be making things worse.

“Why not?” Quatre leaned up and tried to kiss Heero. Heero shoved him away, making him stumble.

“I said not now.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Quatre couldn’t keep the hurt feeling out of his voice. Heero did not have to choose now, when they were happy together, to reject him.

“Sorry.”

The conversation was starting to feel strangely forced. Quatre leaned over and touched Heero’s shoulder, trying to smile, though he was feeling a bit nervous.

“I’m just trying to make you happy.”

It was the last thing Quatre expected. Before Quatre could react Heero turned, striking him across the face with a half-formed fist. Quatre jerked away. Tears stung suddenly in his eyes. Heero’s expression wasn’t even angry, just shocked.

“Quatre, I. . .” Heero started, but Quatre didn’t wait to listen. He didn’t even stop to think. He just jerked his way out of Heero’s grip and bolted. He only had on direction to go, but it didn’t matter as long as Heero didn’t follow.

Quatre slipped into his bedroom. He could hear Heero follow him and stop at the door. Quatre was shaking almost uncontrollably, but he had already started to rationalize the situation. The whole thing was a mistake. It had to be.

Sure enough, when Heero came into view he had forcefully composed himself. He moved over to where Quatre was sitting on the edge of the bed, but did not sit down beside him. He was obviously trying to keep his movements slow and controlled, as if anything else might frighten Quatre away.

“I’m sorry.” Quatre tried to get himself to smile. Obviously he would forgive Heero. He always did, and he was sure that this time would be the same.

“It’s okay,” Quatre told him, though he hadn’t quite stopped shaking yet.

“Why is it always okay?” Heero sounded dangerously close to snapping again, and Quatre shrunk back. “Do you enjoy it when I do things like this?”

Clamping one hand over Quatre’s mouth Heero pushed him back onto the bed, apparently without any effort. Quatre wanted to cry out in fear when he felt Heero ripping one side of his shirt off, but he could barely breathe. Heero, however, didn’t do anything to hurt him. He simply touched light kisses to the small scar that had been left behind when he had bitten Quatre. It felt like an impossibly long time ago, but the memory still stung.

“Was this alright?” he asked, letting Quatre breathe. He was obviously indicating the scar he had left. Quatre was still while he considered Heero’s expression before replying.

“I’ve already forgiven you for that.” It was all he could say. He wanted this whole thing over with. He didn’t want to blame Heero for anything, as determined as Heero was to take blame.

“You forgive too easily,” Heero told him. He left Quatre alone then, not stopping to touch him again, not even to punish him for giving the wrong answer. Somehow, that hurt Quatre more than a second blow might have. It hurt knowing there was nothing he could do. He was losing Heero.  


* * *

Quatre couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. He sat alone on their bed, trapped by the impossible hope that Heero would come back to him. He wanted Heero to come sleep with him the way he did every night, but he didn’t come.

Quatre knew he was being a fool. He knew Heero had probably left the apartment by now, he might not even be coming back. Then what would he do? Quatre had become focused on Heero, and he had been stuck on him for so long. It was hard to even imagine just putting everything together and going back to his normal life as if nothing had happened, or at least as if nothing more was going to happen.

One thought kept circling Quatre’s head: he wished he could say it was the first time Heero had hurt him. He wanted to pretend that what Heero had done was something completely foreign to their relationship. He didn’t want to understand, the way he couldn’t help understanding, that this was what Heero had been trying to hold himself back from for so long.

He couldn’t just keep hoping that Heero was coming to him. He couldn’t keep waiting. He had to start moving forward again.

Quatre rose and strode to the door, suddenly determined to fix things, though he honestly didn’t even know how they had even gone so wrong in the first place.

Unfortunately, Quatre’s resolve wavered as soon as he saw Heero. He was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing, obviously waiting for Quatre to summon the courage to confront him. Quatre didn’t make a sound to alert Heero to his presence, though he knew Heero had to know he was there. Sitting on the edge of the couch, Quatre unconsciously brought one hand up to touch lightly at the tender spot on his face.

“Does it still hurt?” Heero didn’t stop staring into space, though they both knew he had his complete attention focused on Quatre.

“No,” Quatre lied softly. In a way it was true. He hurt much more on the inside.

After a long silence Heero shifted almost restlessly, reaching over and putting one arm around Quatre’s shoulders to pull him close.

“It won’t happen again.” Quatre was surprised at the promise, and immediately wanted to return the favor in some way.

“It was my fault in a way,” he told Heero, “I know I should have quit bothering you. I just wanted to know what was wrong. You never let me help you.”

“Are you trying to tell me you wanted to get hit?” Quatre hoped that somehow Heero was just teasing him again.

“I guess.”

Heero smiled, but for some reason the expression was so out of place that it made Quatre shiver. He drew back his hand in one quick gesture and Quatre couldn’t stop himself from flinching. He expected Heero to hit him again.

“Liar.” Quatre hung his head, ashamed. Heero caught him by the chin, tilted his face to one side, and sadly studied the bruise that now stood out on his cheek.

“I just don’t want you to keep how you feel from me,” Quatre whispered, “I don’t expect you to say everything, but don’t hide from me either.”

“You don’t want to know what I feel.”

Quatre pulled his chin out of Heero’s grasp. He knew, somehow, what was coming, but it was still a shock when Heero spat it out.

“I don’t love you.”

As if those words were the end of everything, Heero stood to leave. He had probably planned all of this, Quatre realized, and had just been waiting for Quatre to appear so that he could reject him before leaving.

“You don’t have to leave,” Quatre blurted out, standing up as well, following Heero as he headed for the door.

“Yes I do,” Heero whirled, grabbing Quatre again and forcing his face up. Quatre closed his eyes instinctively. For a few seconds he even expected to be kissed, the same desperate way Heero had kissed him so many times before. He could even feel Heero’s breath on his mouth before he moved away, and then there was nothing, no other touch as Heero left him.

Heero paused just outside the apartment, not facing Quatre, but looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Goodnight.”

Quatre started to laugh as Heero closed the door behind him. It didn’t feel real. Heero made it sound like they would see each other again in the morning. He made the whole thing sound painfully gentle, completely natural.

Quatre had to laugh or he knew he would start to cry. Everything had been wrong since the beginning. He had been right to call it a fake romance. It seemed like an eternity ago, but Quatre remembered his words clearly.

‘Fake romance.’ If it meant nothing then it wouldn’t hurt. For three months they had fought and loved and it had meant nothing. Heero was never here. If Quatre could believe that, maybe things would snap back to the way they were when he had sat alone at his kitchen table the night Heero had wandered back into his life. He had almost been over Heero then.

Quatre didn’t want to go through this again. He kept laughing, forcing the strained sound out in between painful sobs. He laughed until tears ran down his face, until he couldn’t breathe around the pain in his chest.

He kept laughing until he had to fall to his knees, unable to swallow the shock and pain anymore.

And he cried.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third part. Takes place a little over a year after the end of Day by Day part two. Quatre has been with Trowa almost since Heero left him. Heero has. . . well. . . kept his distance. This is the oddball chapter. It’s got a surreal quality I usually save for my dream sequences.

Quatre trailed his fingers over the glass, stopping at the thin strip of wood that separated one windowpane from the next. The glass was so cold, just like his heart. The light of the nearly full moon seemed so harsh to him. It was making him turn things over in his mind, dredging up memories that he wanted to keep buried.

Funny. It was unusually cold for this time of year. Quatre didn’t think it had ever been this cold when Heero had been living with him. That was the whole problem. Heero had removed Quatre’s heart, kept it, and taken it with him. All that was left was an empty ache that was only good for storing up the cold.

As he thought of Heero, Quatre could almost hear his former lover’s footsteps. With the thick carpet it wasn’t hard to imagine that the sound of silence was really the sound of nearly silent footfalls. Quatre closed his eyes, trying to remain hopeful. The minutes stretched on, excruciatingly slow, as he told himself that any second Heero’s arms would wrap around him.

There was no warm and comforting embrace. He wasn’t insane yet, Quatre reminded himself, just lonely. He couldn’t escape into his mind and have the world reform itself around him into the shape that he wanted it to take. Even in his dreams Quatre couldn’t make Heero come back to him, or erase the fact that he had left.

Leaning his cheek against the cold glass, Quatre half-turned from the window, surveying the room around him. It was empty except for Trowa, still peacefully asleep in the bed they shared every night. The light that tormented Quatre suited him. It could almost soften the hair that fell over one side of his face, and added a softer sort of beauty to his bare skin.

Quatre bit down hard on his lower lip. Trowa had been at his side almost since Heero had left. Not a day went by when Trowa failed to say that he loved him.

And that should have equaled everything that Quatre had ever wanted. So why did he still feel so empty? Everything in his life felt like an endless list of statistics, each with it’s own little label to mock him. Trowa: pro. Heero: con. Or was it the other way around? He should be happy, but sometimes Quatre just felt dead inside.

It didn’t make sense. As long as he had someone at his side, how could he not be happy?

Raising one hand to his mouth, Quatre was only dimly aware of the tiny stain of blood that came away on his fingers. His tongue worked at the bite marks on his lip, not able to bring himself to care. After all, Heero had done much worse, hadn’t he?

Maybe that had been his fault too, Quatre considered. He was beginning to think about that more and more lately. It must have all been his own fault.

Quatre had only seen Heero once since the night when Heero last walked out of his apartment, and out of his life. It was on sleepless nights like this that he remembered it most clearly.

Everyone had been together to celebrate the anniversary of the war's end. Quatre had expected it to be awkward seeing Heero for the first time since their fight, but he hadn't been prepared for what happened. Heero had tried to leave early, maybe because he hadn't liked seeing Quatre and Trowa together. Or maybe it was just because he didn't want to talk to Quatre at all.

In dreams Quatre sometimes wondered what would have happened if he hadn't followed Heero when he left, but that wasn't very often. The thought that Heero would have walked out of his life again without a word was even more painful than what had actually happened.

Quatre closed his eyes, trying to recreate the exact way that Heero's voice had sounded. 'Don't follow me.'

'I just wanted to talk to you,' Quatre had reached out and taken Heero's hand in his own, and Heero had done nothing to discourage him.

'I don't want to talk to you.' In spite of his protests Heero had not tried to force him away.

'You don't want to even be near me again, do you?' Quatre remembered how broken up he had felt, but he couldn't remember if it had come through in his voice. He wondered if Heero had realized he was in pain, and if that could have affected how he treated him, why he was so gentle about leaving that second time.

'It's better this way.' A simple consolation. A few simple words that meant nothing.

'No,' Quatre remembered insisting, 'it's not.'

'You're happy with him,' Heero had dismissed his pain with that. He had dropped Quatre's hand and began walking away.

'I was happier with you.' Quatre remembered the paralysis he had felt in that moment all too well. He hadn't been able get himself to move, but Heero would still have to listen to him. 'That’s why you don't want to talk to me. You're jealous.'

'What am I supposed to be jealous of?' he had managed to make Heero stop, but the memory of his cold tone still made Quatre shiver.

'Nothing. You're the one I love.'

'How do you expect me to believe that?' No curiosity, just anger. Quatre remembered much too well.

'He asked me. I thought, if I couldn't be with you, I might as well make someone else happy.' Quatre had known that he hadn't answered the question. He hadn't known how to make Heero believe him. Even now that he’d had a full year to think about it, he still didn't know how to answer.

Quatre had tried to reach out to Heero then, but he was too far away. Quatre's hand had stayed extended in the air, ignored.

'I want to see you again,' he had told Heero.

'You won't.'

'Please.' No matter what happened, the next blow managed to keep hurting more than the one before it. It seemed Heero had an unlimited talent when it came to causing him pain.

Heero had hesitated. Quatre couldn't be sure, but he thought Heero had glanced back at him then, as he wrapped his arms protectively around himself. His next words had come out unexpectedly. Some days Quatre wasn't even sure if he had said them at all, 'I need to see you again.'

Heero had relented, at least a little, 'I'll try.'

And he had left. Quatre had managed to stay hopeful that he would be able to see Heero again, but as time went on that hope seemed to become more and more futile. Over the next few months Quatre had worked together the idea that Heero would come to see him a year from the day they had parted, on the second anniversary of peace. The idea had grown in his mind until it was almost as powerful of a conviction as if Heero had promised him that on that day they would meet again.

If that was true, than he would have seen Heero tonight. He hadn't come. Or maybe he had just been more successful with avoiding Quatre this year. Either way, it didn't matter. It felt as though a promise had been broken.

It hadn't. Quatre knew better. The most he had ever been able to get out of Heero was, 'I'll try.' It was just that the thought of Heero going out of his way to not to be anywhere near him still hurt.

Things had never really settled between them. Quatre was beyond his determination to make everything work out for the best. Now he just wanted to. . . he wasn't sure. Tell Heero goodbye, and that he still was in love. No, that would sound too much like he was trying to rekindle things. But he could add that he understood that Heero would not want him back. No, that could make Heero mad again. He always became frustrated when he thought Quatre forgave anything too easily. So that left him with goodbye, and Heero would never understand Quatre going to all the trouble of seeing him again just to say goodbye.

The pain in his chest was getting worse. Quatre was beginning to have a hard time breathing around it.

His fingers found the window latch and fumbled to unhook it. As the window swung open and away from him, cold air rushed in. Already he could breathe again. Quatre let his eyes fall closed as the painful knot in his chest loosened. He had just needed some fresh air. It was amazing how such a small thing could make him feel so much better.

"You always were a little late," Quatre murmured, as if Heero was there to hear him. The words made him feel better as well. If Heero took eight months to find him after he had promised to come back as soon as he could, then a year wasn't that different. He would wait and see if Heero reappeared in his life. If he did, then Quatre would try to be ready for him. If not, then he could at least console himself with the thought that maybe they would see each other tomorrow. Maybe never, but in Quatre’s mind that never could still feel like someday.

It was a resolution he had come to several times before, only in the morning he could never carry it out. He wanted to put himself back together, but that required breaking parts of his life that he had put together wrong, or for the wrong reasons.

Already Quatre's peace was ebbing back to a normal level. The knowledge that he had failed to fix himself several times already made his own resolve disappear much more quickly than it had before. Problems that he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with kept coming back to him.

Trowa. What they had together felt wrong enough as it was. He didn't want to hurt Trowa the same way he had been hurt just so that he could. . . what? Pursue an impossible relationship?

As if from far away, he heard Trowa calling him. In the back of his mind Quatre was aware that he must have called several times already. He was standing beside the bed, looking slightly worried, but not wanting to intrude on Quatre.

"Are you alright?"

Quatre shook his head. He wanted very badly not to hurt Trowa, and had already based so much of his life around that, but the words he had been guiltily harboring for so long finally slipped out. "Why do you care so much?"

He wasn't angry, accusing, or sarcastic, and even if he had wanted to he couldn't make the words sound that way. He just hurt. His voice sounded hopeless and lost, even to his own ears.

"Quatre?" Trowa was suddenly at his side, hands coming to rest gently on Quatre's shoulders. He was plainly worried now, though he couldn’t have any idea how deep Quatre had let the hurt go.

Quatre gave a little jerk, trying to get away from Trowa's touch. He didn't want to be touched, not now when he was thinking of Heero. "I can't. . ." Quatre didn't know what else to say. He just couldn't keep this up anymore.

"It's alright." Trowa wrapped his arms loosely around Quatre, trying to comfort him.

Quatre didn't want to be comforted. He didn't want Trowa near him at all. Forgetting the open window behind him in his panic, he shoved himself away from Trowa, intent only on escaping from his concern.

As if in slow motion Quatre felt himself falling backwards. He couldn't hear a thing over the rushing of fear in his head, though he knew Trowa was screaming something. He could see Trowa’s lips form the soundless words.

Very slowly, Quatre fell. Trowa's face was replaced with that of the moon. Then all he knew was darkness. . . pain. . .

* * *

Quatre lay still. He didn’t want to wake up. He knew that someone was beside him, he could hear them moving. At first Quatre thought he was home in bed. Some nights Trowa would wake up and, apparently disappointed that they had moved apart in their sleep, pull Quatre back into his arms. Quatre’s first thought was that he didn’t want to be touched because he ached all over.

The person beside him moved, and a hand was laid lightly over his hand. Quatre jerked, sending a jolt of pain through his entire body.

“Don’t!” Quatre cried. The hand was snatched back immediately. Quatre blinked his eyes open, surprised. He had thought Trowa would grab him if he cried out like that. Now that he thought about it, he seemed to be alone in the bed.

Quatre stared up at the concerned face over his. He couldn’t be sure what was happening. He obviously wasn’t at home, and it was definitely not Trowa who was leaning over him.

“Does it hurt?” Heero asked him, almost nervously. He didn’t try to touch Quatre again, but his hand stayed just over Quatre’s arm, so that Quatre could feel the warmth from it. It was even better than being touched, since it didn’t hurt at all.

There was hundreds of questions suddenly crowding Quatre’s head. He wanted Heero to tell him where he was and why Heero had taken so long to come see him.

“You’re late.” Was the first thing in Quatre’s mind. He tried to touch Heero’s hand, but his arm wouldn’t move. He frowned in concentration and tried again. He was vaguely aware of pain when he tried to move it.

“I’m sorry.” Heero pulled his hand away and glanced towards the door. Quatre looked too. It was closed, and practically the only feature in the small, white-walled room. Heero turned back to him quickly, trying to pretend he hadn’t looked. “Is that why you did it?”

Quatre ignored the question. He didn’t know what Heero was talking about so he switched his attention to trying to move his other arm. This one responded, though stiffly. He reached over to hold Heero’s hand.

Heero squeezed his hand gently, and Quatre smiled. He wasn’t sure why being able to reach out to Heero at last made him feel so much better, but it did.

“I missed you,” Quatre started. Heero put one hand over his mouth, interrupting him, “what’s wrong?” he asked around Heero’s hand.

“Don’t start.” Heero looked up at the door again. “Just tell me what happened.”

Quatre thought for a moment. He could remember his struggle with Trowa by the open window. He could remember the surreal sensation of flight, and the pain that had followed. He could at least guess at what had happened.

“I fell,” he suggested. That made sense. It would explain the aches all over his body. Since he had answered Heero’s question he thought he deserved an answer of his own, “why can’t I move my arm?”

Heero didn’t answer. He was studying Quatre’s face carefully, as if not sure he should believe his answer. After a minute he touched Quatre’s arm lightly. “You shouldn’t try to move.”

“Why can’t I move my arm?” Quatre repeated stubbornly. He didn’t like the way Heero was looking at him.

“You fell,” Heero’s voice was serious, “it wasn’t on purpose?”

“What are you talking about?”

Heero studied him again in silence, not bothering to answer. Quatre was getting frustrated with him. After Heero had disappeared for a full year he could at least bother to answer Quatre’s questions.

Heero watched him carefully for his reaction as he slowly explained. “Trowa told me you were depressed about something. He said you would sit by the window in the middle of the night, and he was worried something like this would happen.”

Quatre tried to work out Heero’s meaning. It was such a strange idea that he had to work up to it slowly. Trowa thought he was depressed. He thought Quatre had wanted to fall. How could he? Quatre wanted to wait for Heero, and he could only do that while he was still alive. Even if he had known it would take something like that to make Heero come to his side, he wouldn’t have thrown himself out of a window.

“Where is Trowa?” Quatre suddenly realized how strange it was that Heero was the one beside him, with Trowa nowhere to be seen.

“He doesn’t want to see you.” Heero glanced at the door again. Quatre wondered if he was expecting Trowa to come in at any moment.

“Is he mad at me?” Quatre asked guiltily. He suddenly realized that Trowa couldn’t have been too happy with his struggle to get away from him.

Heero looked annoyed by this question. “Why would he be mad at you?” It was the same thing that had driven them apart in the first place. Heero thought Quatre was too quick to take blame on himself.

“We fought,” Quatre explained in a quiet voice. He was dimly aware that he probably shouldn’t be telling Heero this. “I was thinking of you, and how you hadn’t come to see me.” Heero drew in a sharp breath, but didn’t try to stop Quatre as he continued, “I didn’t want him to touch me when I was thinking about you.”

“Quatre,” Heero sounded lost, Quatre couldn’t remember ever hearing him sound so hopeless. “I was. . .” He stopped, and forced himself to stay quiet.

Sighing, Heero bent and kissed Quatre, so softly he couldn’t be sure it was real, on the lips. Quatre was busy staring up at him in shock when the door opened.

“We’ve given them enough time,” a nurse with greying hair was telling Trowa. Quatre’s heart started to ache just seeing him standing there. Heero nodded to the nurse and stood up. Quatre looked up at him with a stab of fear and clutched his hand.

“Don’t you dare leave,” he whispered angrily to Heero. Trowa was watching the two of them now, and Heero looked from Trowa’s quiet acceptance to Quatre’s fearful clinging without seeming to know what he was supposed to do.

“You should rest.” Heero tried half-heartedly to remove Quatre’s hand.

“I won’t let you leave unless you promise to come back.” Quatre dug his nails into Heero’s wrist. Anything to make sure he stayed to listen. “Promise me.”

“I’ll try.” That might have been enough for Quatre before, brokenhearted and afraid as he had been then, but he refused to settle for that now.

“Promise me you’ll come back,” Quatre insisted, “while I’m here in the hospital,” he added. He wasn’t sure when he had realized that he was in a hospital, but he knew that was the only explanation that made sense.

“I promise,” Heero relented at last. Quatre released him and relaxed back onto the bed, exhausted just from that small effort. Heero retreated to speak with Trowa, and the nurse, who had been trying to ignore the scene, came forward to check on Quatre.

Quatre tried to ignore the way that Heero and Trowa were watching him now that he had gotten the promise he wanted from Heero. He concentrated on answering the questions he was now being bombarded with in between having his pulse, and his chest, and everything else checked out. No, he wasn’t in too much pain. Yes, he did ache. Yes, his head did hurt a little. No, he wasn’t lightheaded. No, he wasn’t sleepy.

Nodding wisely, the nurse gave him some painkillers and made sure he swallowed them. Almost immediately the room began to blur around him. Quatre would have liked to panic, but he suddenly felt very relaxed, limp and sleepy.

It must have been some kind of sedative. Quatre tried to look for Heero, but realized with a pang of disappointment that he had already left the room. That was alright. Quatre knew he had to come back, and that was enough for him right now.

* * *

Heero didn’t come back. Quatre lived through what felt like an eternity of force-fed medications and the endless insistence that he rest, all for nothing. He discovered that his arm was broken, and had been wrapped securely to his side solely to prevent him from moving it. He discovered that his continual rounds of unwanted visitors stopped as soon as he pretended to be asleep, and started up again as soon as he began talking to someone he actually wanted to see.

The one thing he didn’t discover was why Heero hadn’t come yet. Trowa finally admitted that he had been coming whenever he could be sure that Quatre was asleep. When he strained his memory, Quatre discovered that there might have been someone beside him during his medicine-induced stupors. He could dimly remember someone quickly leaving the room as he hovered on the edge of waking, struggling to break through. It was something, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

It was a week before Trowa confronted him about Heero. The conversation was brief and final, but not as painful as Quatre had expected it to be.

“You still want him,” was all Trowa had said. Quatre had wanted to cry for Trowa’s sake, feeling the hurt that he was hiding.

“I’m sorry,” Quatre had whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He wanted to say something to make Trowa feel better. He knew how much the way Heero had broken up with him had hurt, and he didn’t want to put Trowa through that. “I thought if I could love you back, everything would be perfect.”

He had at least done a better job than Heero had. Trowa had not been hysterical or burst into tears, he had just nodded and accepted what Quatre said.

“You know I loved you.” Trowa seemed satisfied with that, though Quatre had to wonder at the past tense.

Quatre had found himself smiling, though the gesture felt empty even to him. “I know.”

Trowa nodded thoughtfully, squeezed Quatre’s hand, and let him rest. Quatre had thought he wouldn’t be able to see Trowa again either, but he was wrong. Trowa visited him several more times as a friend, and the atmosphere between them grew more and more comfortable with each visit. In fact, Quatre suspected that Trowa was responsible for what happened the day they finally released him from the hospital.

* * *

Quatre was miserable. He was sure he had lost his last chance to see Heero. Even though he had forced that promise out of him, Heero had not come to see him once, at least not while Quatre was awake to enjoy it. As glad as he was to get back to his normal life, Quatre almost wanted to stay and cling to the flimsy hope that Heero might still come.

Toying with the sling his arm was still in, Quatre almost missed seeing Heero. He glanced up, and for a few seconds he could see his familiar profile on the other side of the street.

On the way home, Quatre knew Heero was tailing him. He strained to see in all directions at once, and was rewarded with six more glimpses of Heero. The last time, outside of his apartment building, Quatre knew Heero was showing himself deliberately. He stood in plain sight, watching Quatre hesitate in indecision by the glass doors.

Quatre hoped that Heero might continue to follow him if he went inside, but he knew that was unlikely. Maybe he should chase after Heero and try to talk to him, but Heero could be gone long before he caught up to him.

After a few minutes of staring at each other, Heero raised his hand in what might have been a salute and walked away. Quatre drunk in the sight of him until he disappeared into the crowd.

It hurt to think about, but in the next few hours he spent alone Quatre slowly forced his thoughts into the uncomfortable subject of his failed relationship with Heero. Whatever Heero had done to him, whatever he had done wrong, was beyond Quatre. There was nothing he could do about it. What he had to do now was figure out what he had done that had upset Heero so much.

Only, that was the problem, wasn’t it? When he tried to do things for Heero and tried to work his life around Heero, that upset Heero. Then when he tried to be honest and tell Heero what he wanted he felt selfish. He was supposed to be making Heero happy, wasn’t he? That was what being in love was about, wasn’t it?

Well now neither of them were happy.

Maybe that was a bit of an assumption. Heero might be better off the way he was now. For all he knew Heero was perfectly happy to avoid and forget him.

Maybe he could be happy without Heero as well. He had tried that once. He had almost gotten the hang of it too. The more he thought about that, the better he liked the idea. Obviously he could live without waking up in someone’s arms every morning. Even though he would miss it. Obviously he would be fine without someone cuddling up to him while he tried to work. Even though that made a very nice distraction. Obviously he could be ready for Heero when and if he ever chose to walk back into his life, ready to stand firm and say ‘no, I’m sorry I-’

No. Who did he think he was kidding? He would crumble right at Heero’s feet.

No, Quatre counseled himself, say it in your head. ‘No, I’m sorry but that’s not good for either of us.’

Take out the apology. He won’t like it. ‘This isn’t good for either of us and I refuse.’

Leave the damn apology in. Who care what he likes? ‘I’m sorry, but no.’

Quatre considered for a moment. Even if he wasn’t supposed to care what Heero wanted, he didn’t like the way that sounded in his head. ‘We tried that. It didn’t work. Let’s move on.’

Good. Now if only he could get himself to believe that he would be in good shape. The only problem was, for a short time it had worked. For a few weeks he had simply loved, and been loved by, Heero without thinking about it. It had just happened. It was wonderful. And when they tried it again they were both miserable. Something had changed in those months they had spent apart.

Quatre thought out what he had done that might have changed him. All he could come up was that he had been trying to get over Heero.

Had he really gotten over Heero then? It wasn’t something Quatre had ever tried to question, not something he had ever wanted to question, but he couldn’t stop himself from questioning it now. He had wanted Heero’s attention so badly. He had clung to Heero, needed him so much. . .

What had happened to the free and honest moments he had shared with Heero before? He had needed him, but not like that.

He hadn’t clung.

He hadn’t made pleasing Heero his first priority.

He hadn’t stewed in miserable loneliness if Heero didn’t hold him every night.

That was it. For now it was the clearest answer Quatre could find. He needed to let go. Even if it was just because it made Heero unhappy he had to let go. Maybe later his mind would be clearer and he could set a goal deeper than that. For now he had something to work for.

And if Heero popped back up unexpectedly? Quatre still would like to rehearse what he would need to say. ‘Not now, I’m trying to get over you.’ ‘I need to work some things out for myself first.’ ‘It’s over.’

Quatre slowly settled on the words he wanted. ‘It’s over.’ Finalize it. Don’t reach out. Don’t beg. Don’t hope. ‘I have my own life now.’ Was too final. He didn’t feel quite strong enough to wave that around, though he now hoped he could make the statement true in time. ‘We have separate lives now.’ Not now. Not in this lifetime. Try back in an eon or two when I’ve put myself back together. ‘We can get on with our lives now.’ Heero had a life too, and he would have to work through it the same way Quatre was forcing himself to. Rude, but who cared about that.

He was ready to face tomorrow, and when that was over with, the tomorrow after that. It couldn’t be called progress when he hadn’t done anything beyond think at himself, but it could at least be considered a start.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks: To those who poked at me to finish this, and those who actually came by to read the last part. I’m sorry it took so long. Hopefully I’ll eventually be able to put up some of the lemony bits that didn’t fit in this chapter.  
> Notes: The last part. If I have anything else I want to say about the series I guess I’d better say it now. It was a pain in a butt at times that I was determined to stick with one point of view, since there were a few things I really did want to show from Heero’s perspective. That’s about it. Enjoy this last chapter.

“Just sign it, it’d only take two seconds if you would just sign the card.”

Considering Duo had been trying to get him to sign it for that last fifteen minutes, and showed no intention of giving up, that was starting to sound better and better. Quatre sighed and rubbed his fingers into his temples. He still didn’t understand what the big deal was.

“Duo, I haven’t seen him for a year, he’s not going to care if I sign his card or not.”

Quatre didn’t know why Duo was being so vehement about him signing the thing anyway. He could already see Duo’s signature on the inside of the card, along with a doodle of a lopsided smiley face sticking out its tongue.

Duo held the card open on Quatre’s desk. “You mean you’ve been avoiding each other for a year.”

“Exactly.” Quatre tried to turn his attention back to the stack of papers he had in front of him. Most of them just needed his print for authorization, but he always liked to know what he was signing, and he wished Duo would give him some time to read.

“So?” Duo stubbornly placed the card on top of his papers. “Maybe it’s time you stopped avoiding each other.”

“We are both better off this way.”

“No, you’re not.” Duo put his hand down on Quatre’s papers to keep him from moving them. “Besides, he’s driving me crazy.”

That made Quatre hesitate. He didn’t want to ask what exactly Heero was doing to make Duo crazy. It sounded like Heero was driving him crazy because he missed Quatre, but that couldn’t be the case, could it?

“Look, I’m not asking you to go see him. Just take the first step here.”

Quatre pressed his thumb into the inkpad on his desk, then rolled his print onto Heero’s card, just under Duo’s doodle. Signatures were for affection and tradition. Fingerprints were official.

Duo rolled his eyes, but accepted it. He took the card and planted himself in the chair beside Quatre’s desk.

“So, we still going to lunch? I won’t make you buy him a present or anything.”

“Just let me read through these papers.” Really, Duo was a good friend most of the time, he was just so stubborn. It didn’t matter anyway, Heero probably wouldn’t even realize it was his print on the card. Or if he did, he would never think it meant Quatre was trying to bother him again.

* * *

Quatre did his best not to stare. He couldn’t be sure how long it had been since he had seen Heero’s face, only that he wished Heero would move back a little. He was out of practice having a conversation with anyone who had their face almost close enough to touch.

“We need to talk.” Yes, Quatre thought he could have guessed what Heero had in mind without him saying that. His brain was working slowly, but he suddenly recognized the paper Heero was clutching in his hand. He was quite sure it was the same birthday card Duo had pestered him into signing. He now wished very much that he had refused.

Quatre’s mind raced. In desperation he latched on to the words he had once planned to say in this situation. “It’s over. We have separate lives now.”

“So you want nothing to do with me.” Heero nodded. He gave in so easily that Quatre relaxed a little too soon. Heero continued, “you’ve already left me behind.”

“It’s not true.” Quatre tried to wish it was. “I have to work on my own problems now,” he tried to explain.

“Do you think you’re the only one who has problems?” Heero’s grip tightened, crunching the card further. Quatre tried not to wince watching him.

Quatre shook his head, then looked up at Heero, “No.” He expected Heero was hurting in his own way, hurting in ways Quatre couldn’t understand, just as Quatre no longer expected to be understood. “But I don’t know how to fix your problems.”

Heero looked surprised, then satisfied. “But I know how to fix them.” And at last he dropped the offer Quatre had been hoping for and dreading all at once. “I want to see you tonight.”

Memories hovered in Quatre’s mind, acceptance was right on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed both. “No.”

Heero nodded his agreement. Quatre couldn’t help thinking it couldn’t be that easy. Heero would never give up something he actually wanted that easily. He guessed Heero didn’t care after all. In the end, Quatre would find himself to be half right, but he also found himself proven very wrong.

* * *

After all of the times Heero disappeared from his life without a word, Quatre hadn’t expected he would ever see him again after that conversation. The thought made him ache a little inside, but he was already becoming numb to the sensation of loneliness. He was sure he could handle it.

Instead, the minute he walked out of his office Quatre got a strange shock. Heero was sitting by the door waiting for him.

His secretary gave Heero a look as he got up to follow Quatre, giving Quatre the impression that she found Heero’s presence very insulting. Quatre would have liked to explain that it was not his idea, but he found it hard to form coherent thought at the moment.

Did Heero actually plan to follow him home? Did he honestly think Quatre would let him stay?

And there was another far more pressing question in the back of Quatre’s mind. Would he really be able to turn Heero away?

Heero tailed him all the way back to his apartment like a lost puppy. Quatre found it suddenly impossible to concentrate on anything. Heero didn’t make a sound or try to touch him in any way, but Quatre remained on edge. He was hyper-aware of the person following him, but so unfocused on anything else around him that he could have walked right into a signpost without seeing it.

With the feeling of Heero’s stare haunting him, Quatre took the quickest route he could home and tried to stand in the farthest corner of the elevator from Heero that he could. This proved useless, since no matter where he stood Heero would move slowly closer to him until they were almost touching. Quatre suddenly had some very serious regrets about living on the top floor.

“Quatre.” It wasn’t until he was at his front door that Heero spoke. Quatre nearly jumped out of his shoes. He whirled around, ready to refuse to let Heero follow him any longer when Heero seized his hand and kissed it. He didn’t ask for anything else. He just looked up at Quatre and told him, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Quatre was unnerved. He didn’t try to argue, just slammed the door in Heero’s face and sat down with his back against it to try and calm himself. What was he going to do? He couldn’t open himself up to Heero again. He had already let himself be hurt twice and twice was enough.

In his heart Quatre knew that if Heero was allowed to keep up like this, if he found any crack in Quatre’s armor, he would have no trouble exploiting all of Quatre’s weaknesses until Quatre wouldn’t be able to help falling in love again.

* * *

As Heero settled into his new role as Quatre’s stalker, Quatre began to try a variety of methods to discourage him.

The first day he spent wandering around, hoping Heero would get bored and leave him alone. He knew this was a hopeless effort, at least for the first day. He sat for almost an hour in a café, pretending to read a magazine. In reality he was plotting how he could slip away from Heero. Not only would this keep him from being stalked for a little while, but it was sure to frustrate and annoy Heero.

Heero didn’t give up or try to speak to him at all until Quatre made his way home. Then, as he had the night before he took Quatre’s hand and kissed it, promising he would be back tomorrow. It was all Quatre could do to keep from smiling and replying not if he could help it.

* * *

Quatre’s first dodge was a simple experiment to discover what Heero would do to follow him. He flagged down a taxi. Simple etiquette would have sent the message that he wanted to be left alone. A message that any normal person should have picked up on. Heero chose to ignore this entirely and climbed in behind Quatre.

Ever adaptive, Quatre acted as though this was exactly what he had wanted to happen and turned it to his advantage. He leaned over and asked the cab driver to take his ‘friend’ home. Jumping out before Heero could come up with a counter argument, Quatre waved as he watched his stalker being carried away. The expression on Heero’s face almost made up for the stiff silence he had been smothering Quatre with.

Instead of wandering around and enjoying his newly won freedom, Quatre decided to head home before Heero could track him down. At least he could enjoy a quiet evening without the thought of Heero sitting on his doorstep waiting for him.

It suddenly occurred to Quatre to wonder where Heero had been sleeping the last two nights. Each morning Heero was there waiting for him by his door when he stepped outside.

It did not improve Quatre’s mood to see Heero waiting for him when he got home. Either Heero had anticipated him, or he had resolved to wait knowing that Quatre would have to come home eventually.

Quatre tried to ignore him, but Heero was standing right in front of him, reaching out to grasp his hand so he could kiss it again, the way he always did. Quatre put his hands behind his back to keep them out of Heero’s reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Waiting for you.” Heero gave up on trying to catch Quatre’s hands, at least for the moment.

“No, I mean what are you doing following me?” Quatre wished Heero would at least have the decency to look embarrassed. “You stalker.”

“I wanted you to get used to having me around.” Something else was lying unspoken under Heero’s words. There was the idea that once Quatre was used to him he would be able to take further steps. Heero would move on to befriend him, seduce him. That was exactly what Quatre was afraid of, that he would get used to having Heero around.

“I don’t want to have you around,” for now at least Quatre could be sure that this was the truth. “Don’t talk to me.”

Quatre slammed the door behind him. He was still focused. He had learned this lesson already. He didn’t need to be hurt by Heero again. He didn’t need to add to the experience.

* * *

Heero kept following him, though he kept his distance a little better than he had before. Quatre was getting close to perfecting the art of ignoring him. For minutes at a time he could forget that Heero was close by.

He hated himself for adapting. He no longer had the energy or the anger to slam doors in Heero’s face. He tried little tricks to get free for half an hour or so, but Heero was quickly learning all of his favorite haunts and was tracking him down more quickly each time.

They never spoke. Heero seemed to be obeying Quatre’s command not to talk to him, because he never offered a word.

It was maddening. Quatre began to slip into a mood he had never thought he would relive. He wanted to rebel. He wanted to fling himself out of the reach of his silent shadow. He developed an almost painful urge to do something crazy and stupid. Just once. Just to prove he could. Just to irritate Heero and show him that he couldn’t be in control of Quatre’s life.

Quatre needed desperately to prove that. Some nights he woke up with his whole chest so tight he could barely breathe. He must be crying in his dreams. Because it was happening all over again. Once Heero wanted something he always got it. Sometimes he would wonder if that was why he had ever loved Heero in the first place, because Heero willed him to.

The problem, though he wouldn’t admit it, was not that Heero could somehow influence him. The problem was that the influence was there inside of his own body, bubbling and boiling beneath the surface and ready to spill over. He could learn to live alone. He could remake himself, bury the unwanted thoughts, but he couldn’t kill them. Quatre fought not to look too deeply into himself because he knew if he did it would be all over. He couldn’t kill his emotions.

In his darkest moments Quatre admitted to himself that he wanted someone. Once or twice he even let the thought slip into admitting that there was a specific person. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe it was Heero, because he just couldn’t believe Heero was the person he had always thought he was before.

Heero was empty. He was an empty, mechanical shell not even willing to speak. He was exactly as everyone else had always stereotyped him. Quatre began to see this. Against his will he actually knew it.

Even though one stubborn part of him refused to believe it.

* * *

Over the course of a week Quatre tried to test just how much time Heero spent waiting outside of his door. He stepped out at different times during the day, sometimes waiting only an hour after work, sometimes getting up in the middle of the night.

What he found wasn’t encouraging.

He caught Heero eating frozen food at one point. At another time he napped. Did Heero expect him to test his time limits sooner or later? Did he really have no where else to go? Whatever the reason Quatre was quickly being convinced that Heero lived out there. He didn’t even bother to wonder why none of his neighbors ever complained.

And, about that time, Heero began to sense his defeat. He reacted very gradually at first, standing a little closer in the elevator. He began to follow a little closer when they were in crowded places. All the changes he made were small and gradual. He eventually started keeping Quatre company inside of his office instead of lurking outside of it. Quatre was beyond even noticing.

Then Heero started something he couldn’t help but notice. As Quatre arrived home one day, Heero kissed him goodbye again. It was just a tiny kiss on his hand, but it jolted Quatre back into awareness. Without words Quatre suddenly realized what Heero was doing, and that he was actually falling for it.

He would start trying to escape Heero’s authority again soon. Once he had a good plan and not before. Until then he would just let Heero think he was the sneaky one.

There was no getting around that Quatre had allowed his life to fall into a routine that had Heero imbedded in it, but at least he was aware of it now. Soon he hoped he would get the chance to shake things up a little.

* * *

Quatre paused in his downward rush, dizzy from whipping around each corner. There was no mistaking the sound of footsteps following him down. Heero had caught on much more quickly than Quatre had hoped. An instant of thought, and Quatre dashed down another half flight of stairs, yanked open the hall door, and nearly flew out of the stairwell. Let Heero guess what floor he had gotten off at.

Quatre managed to get across the hall and into the other stairwell before Heero figured out where he had disappeared to. Now he was getting his second wind, and he was sure to be home free. Quatre wanted to laugh out loud. Now all he had to do was get out of the building and he would be completely free of his silent stalker.

Quatre’s elation lasted until he reached the last flight. He could see the bottom and the door leading into the garage, and Heero waiting for him. He was cut off.

Quatre stopped, panting for breath. How had Heero gotten in front of him? Quatre started backing away, his mind quickly working through possible solutions. Get up to the terrace, there should be another way down from there. If not maybe he could jump. Not the best of solutions, but it would do.

As Quatre started backwards up the stairs Heero followed, matching him step for step. Quatre stopped. Heero kept coming. Quatre turned and bolted at full speed up the stairs.

In retrospect, he never had a chance. Heero got a grip on his ankle with one hand, and he went down, hard. All the breath was knocked out of his lungs with a painful ‘oof,’ and before he could move Heero was on top of him, pinning him down.

“Quatre.” Heero only held him tighter if he tried to move, so Quatre concentrated on getting his lungs working properly again. “Be still.”

Quatre concentrated on his painful gasps of air. Only once he was sure his aching lungs could handle it themselves did he even think of arguing with Heero.

“Oh, so now I’m worth talking to?”

Heero’s hands clenched painfully on his shoulders. “You told me not to talk to you,” he reminded Quatre. Quatre didn’t care.

“Why do you keep following me? Why won’t you leave me alone?” Quatre struggled violently, only to have himself slammed back down into the floor.

“You’re hurting me,” he whispered. Quatre meant that on more levels than he cared to think about. Right now he chose to stick with the way Heero was kneeling on him and pressing his back into the stairs.

“I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Heero stopped holding him down. Instead his arms slipped under Quatre and lifted him gently. Quatre found himself on his feet again, held and supported by Heero’s arms.

“Is this better?”

Quatre found, to his surprise, that it was better. He found himself actually enjoying being in Heero’s arms after the way Heero had been acting. He buried his face in Heero’s chest.

“What are you trying to do to me?”

Heero’s arms tightened around him, holding him tight and safe. “I thought I could just let you get used to having me around.”

That was exactly what Quatre was afraid he would do. He didn’t want to get used to Heero, let Heero back into his life, and get hurt again. He was afraid it was too late to stop it either.

“Quatre,” Heero breathed his name softly, his lips brushing tenderly against Quatre’s forehead.

Quatre looked up in shock and found Heero kissing him on the mouth. It was too much of a shock for him to even think of protesting for the moment.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve missed you,” Heero’s mouth closed over his again, and tears burned in Quatre’s eyes.

“No!” Quatre shoved, and somehow Heero was away from him. He didn’t want to get used to Heero. He didn’t want to fall in love again. He couldn’t take it.

For once Heero didn’t follow him. Quatre didn’t even think to be grateful for that simple fact. He got out of the building, somehow lost himself in the crowd. Even when he slowed to a walk Quatre couldn’t form the thought that he would eventually have to stop. His mind had gone numb from Heero’s kiss. All he could do was keep moving.

Rational thought surfaced slowly. Quatre worked through the most immediate and least painful of his thoughts first. He was exhausted. He would have to rest. He was near some sort of park. Quatre could at least take that much in. He let himself get swept up in the calm, green feel of the place as he managed to find somewhere to sit down.

Small aches and pains gradually made themselves known to him. His back still ached slightly from his encounter with Heero on the stairwell. Quatre’s brain shied away from that subject.

Slowly, gradually, Quatre brought himself back to his main problem. He tried to consider what he could do. He had been fine on his own, but then Heero had been content to leave him alone. He had tried to send Heero home. He had tried to evade Heero. He had tried to show him he wasn’t wanted.

There was a small loudspeaker mounted on a nearby lamppost. Quatre almost missed is crackling to life with it’s announcement. Tonight’s scheduled rainstorm was beginning in five minutes. Please find cover.

Quatre knew he should get up and go home, or at least find somewhere to stay dry. He considered it, but his body didn’t respond at all. He quickly forgot about the rain in the face of his other problems.

Then it started raining on him. Quatre was startled out of his thoughts at the first few cool drops on his head and knees.

The rain felt good. Quatre tilted his head back to enjoy it. The little pearls of cold water helped clear his head and relaxed him. Quatre didn’t feel like moving at all. He was actually enjoying the rain.

Quatre was quickly becoming soaked as the tiny sprinkles of water turned into a downpour. He didn’t care.

About the time he was starting to really shiver, and wondering idly how much longer he could stay out without making himself sick, or if it was already too late, Quatre found he was no longer alone.

He didn’t notice Heero until he was almost close enough to touch. Then Heero reached out and placed gentle hands on his shoulders. Quatre turned his face away.

“Leave me alone.”

Heero ignored the order, bending over Quatre as if he could shield him from the rain. His hands were clenched on either side of Quatre’s shoulders, he face above Quatre so that their noses almost touched.

“I tried.”

Quatre looked up into Heero’s eyes in spite of himself. He understood somehow that what Heero was about to tell him could change his mind.

“I thought I was over you. I was fine,” Heero ran one hand tenderly through Quatre’s hair, “and then, just the slightest mention of you and I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

“Why?”

“Let me stay with you.” Heero’s arms were around Quatre now. There was a tightness building in Quatre’s throat, making it hard to breathe. “Let me take you home.”

“Not yet,” Quatre whispered. Before he knew it he was pressed against Heero, not daring to breathe to keep from crying. It was too late. He could almost feel his heart crack all over again, but there was no pain, he was only numb with cold and the half-real feeling of being in Heero’s arms. Heero held him tight, kissing his face again and again, and Quatre almost dared to trust him.

* * *

Heero bringing him home was little more than a waterlogged blur in Quatre’s mind. Suddenly preoccupied with how cold and tired he was, Quatre almost missed the fact that the walk back was actually very short. He must have walked in circles after escaping from Heero before.

Not that his escape was something Quatre particularly wanted to repeat. Heero wasn’t holding him anymore, but Quatre could feel how close he was. He was simply aware of Heero being warm and solid and following his every move.

For once he didn’t mind. When Heero took it into his head to scoop Quatre up and carry him the last few feet to his front door, Quatre didn’t even think of protesting. Heero snatched Quatre’s keys right out of his hand and let himself in.

Heero didn’t set him down until he got into Quatre’s bathroom. He dropped Quatre’s keys into the sink and sat Quatre down on the floor with almost exaggerated care. Quatre was shivering by this time. He was soaked right through, and now he was freezing.

Heero’s hands fumbled on the buttons of Quatre’s shirt. Quatre hesitantly reached up and helped him remove the shirt.

Quatre found himself wrapped tenderly in one of his huge fluffy towels. Heero had his arms around Quatre’s shoulders, rubbing him slightly to help him dry off quicker.

Next Heero moved to remove Quatre’s pants. His hands ghosting over Quatre’s legs as he slid them off. Quatre shivered again, but not from cold this time. Heero made a point of pulling off Quatre’s socks before he started to massage him with the towel again.

Suddenly feeling shy, Quatre reached out and touched the hem of Heero’s shirt.

“You’re wet too.”

Heero allowed Quatre to undress him. Each time Quatre let his hands slip a little to touch Heero’s skin it was as if a message passed between them, one Quatre couldn’t even begin to translate into words.

Quatre tried to offer Heero the towel, but Heero had other plans. He took Quatre by the shoulders and maneuvered him closer until he could almost get the towel around both of them.

Now Quatre was quite warm, a lot more so than could be attributed to the towel alone. There was also no doubt in his mind that it was Heero’s embrace making his heart jolt. For the moment he didn’t have to think about this being right or wrong. He could just feel.

This was the way he had first felt being close to Heero. Even though he was determined not to trust the man he loved, Quatre had to take a moment to drink in the feeling of being close to Heero. The simple touch made him feel safe and warm for the first time in far too long.

“I missed you,” Heero murmured into his ear, sounding as relaxed and content as Quatre felt.

“That’s what you get when you don’t keep in touch,” Quatre scolded lightly. He couldn’t really put his heart into reprimanding Heero right now.

“I meant in the past few weeks.” Heero’s voice was as even as if he was commenting on the weather, but Quatre could sense that this was a tender subject. “You were so close, but I couldn’t touch you.” Quatre pressed a little closer. He understood because it was exactly how he had felt. It was much worse having Heero so close and knowing he couldn’t have him than it was to just forget him and move on.

“We’ll start over. This time you have to act like a normal person.”

Heero stood up, leaving Quatre with the towel. Quatre thought for a moment that he might be offended.

“Where are you going?”

Heero paused. “Dry clothes,” was all he would answer with. Quatre got the distinct impression that he was trying to avoid the ‘normal’ comment. He followed.

“What are you going to wear?” Quatre wanted to know as he tossed the towel over Heero’s shoulders. He already knew what was going to happen. They spent the next ten minutes finding something that fit Heero. Throughout the whole task Heero didn’t say a word. Now Quatre knew he was avoiding something. All he could do was wait and hope that Heero would eventually spit it out.

For once it didn’t take long. After a few more minutes of a silence that was quickly becoming uncomfortable, Heero asked, “what do you think is normal?”

Quatre didn’t have to stop and think about this one. He knew what he wanted Heero to stop doing.

“You shouldn’t be living on my doorstep. If you don’t have an apartment I can help you find one. Don’t stalk me everywhere if you’re not going to talk to me.” Quatre touched Heero’s hand soothingly. “That’s all. It can’t be that hard.”

Heero nodded, turning his hand over so his fingers could curl around Quatre’s. Quatre knew he had to be up to the challenge of acting normal, at least a little.

* * *

Even though he had told Heero not to be living on his doorstep, Quatre found him there again when he got home the next day.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” Heero put one hand over the doorknob to keep Quatre from reaching for it. Quatre found didn’t have the energy to question Heero about it further, but he made a mental note to make sure he got to the root of that problem later.

Quatre ran one hand through his hair, wondering how he was supposed to deal with Heero. “For what? I don’t want to go anywhere now.”

Heero shifted closer. “Then what?” Quatre didn’t think he could escape spending time with Heero tonight. Not with Heero’s hand clenched over the doorknob to keep him from getting into his apartment.

“I’m tired,” Quatre argued. He knew he didn’t have the energy to put up much of a fight, not when he wanted to see Heero, but he also knew he was too tired to enjoy anything resembling a date. He hadn’t been sleeping well. Quatre didn’t even have the energy to tell himself he was being selfish.

Quatre didn’t even realize he was swaying on his feet until Heero reached out to steady him. He watched numbly as Heero took his key and let them in to his apartment.

“We could just do something here,” Quatre suggested, trying to pull himself together. He had felt off all day, and now the last thing he needed to do was fall apart in front of Heero.

Heero’s arms was around his waist, pulling at him, guiding him across his living room. Quatre went with him without protest, thinking vaguely that he would just like to take a nap, and then he would feel up to a date.

“I’m putting you to bed,” Heero insisted. Quatre only nodded, glad that Heero knew what he wanted. He was barely aware of the way Heero was keeping an overly sharp eye on him, or the way Heero’s grip tightened whenever he took a shaky step.

Once safely on his bed, Quatre had to catch Heero’s arm to keep him from leaving. He considered himself lucky that Heero froze at the touch, he knew he couldn’t drag him back by his sleeve from his position.

“If you just wait, we can have dinner together.”

Heero hesitated for a full minute, waiting until Quatre dropped his hand before he settled on the edge of the bed. Quatre smiled sleepily, thinking he had won for once. He tangled his fingers in Heero’s shirt to keep him there, he only intended to take a short nap, after all.

He couldn’t identify the look Heero was giving him. Heero reached out to smooth back his hair. “You’ll be fine in the morning,” he murmured. Quatre almost missed the words as he drifted to sleep. He didn’t realize that Heero knew better than he did just how badly he needed his ‘nap.’

* * *

When Quatre finally woke up it took him a minute to realize he had slept all the way through the night. He still felt groggy, too. It took him several minutes to realize that Heero was curled up beside him on the bed, still asleep.

Snuggling closer to Heero, Quatre tried to digest this new information. He hadn’t expected to be sleeping with Heero so soon, in any sense of the phrase. He wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or just enjoy the warmth.

Heero stirred at his movement, squinting at Quatre for a moment before slipping his arms around him and tucking him safely against his chest.

Quatre pushed uselessly at Heero. He could protest that he needed to get up, but his heart wasn’t really in it. His reluctance to move was not only because he found himself enjoying the comfortable feeling that he was getting from Heero’s company. Every time he tried to move even a little he felt lightheaded, and slightly nauseous.

Heero muttered something under his breath and hugged Quatre close. Quatre went limp with lazy pleasure as Heero stroked his hair.

“Quatre,” Heero murmured, pausing with his hand against Quatre’s face. Quatre almost thought he could hear a note of concern in Heero’s voice. It was a strange to think that he could hear any of what Heero was feeling.

Quatre tried to sit up, shaken out of his peaceful mood by his thoughts. As soon as he moved Heero forced him back down.

Quatre would have pushed Heero off, but the sudden movements had made his head spin. Probably just from trying to sit up to fast, he told himself.

He had to wait for the world to stop rocking under him until he could question Heero. “What are you doing? I have to get up.” Quatre’s throat scratched when he tried to talk. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. He hoped he wasn’t in for a long argument with Heero.

Heero shook his head, but loosened his grip. He pulled the blanket back over Quatre, but Quatre wasn’t in the mood to be cuddled.

“Get off!” Quatre demanded, or at least tried to. All he got out was the, “get,” before he started coughing. Heero still didn’t let him up, which made it very hard to breathe.

“Move,” Quatre managed to get out between coughs.

Heero moved to one side. He was still hovering over Quatre, but at least he wasn’t making it hard for him to breathe anymore.

Quatre gasped in a few grateful breaths before trying to get out of bed again. He really needed a glass of water to get rid of the tickle in his throat.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Heero pressed Quatre down again. Quatre couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him so stubborn. He was always stubborn, really, but he was being too vocal about it.

“Let go,” Quatre tried to whisper, but that just irritated his throat more.

“You’re sick. Even I know better than to let you go out like this.”

Maybe he was still irritated by that ‘normal’ comment Quatre had made, Quatre wasn’t sure. Of course he knew he wouldn’t get much done now. He just wanted Heero to get off and let him get a drink.

“Quatre,” Heero touched Quatre’s forehead carefully, as if he suspected Quatre might bite him if he put his hand within range. “I’m looking after you.”

“That doesn’t require smothering me!” Quatre dissolved into another fit of coughing, curling away from Heero.

Heero left the bed for a minute, almost making Quatre regret yelling at him, more than he already regretted yelling for irritating his throat. He didn’t have time to worry about exactly where Heero had vacated himself to anyway, trying to get air back into his lungs was a more pressing problem.

As soon as Quatre could breathe well enough to sit up again, Heero was at his side, putting an arm around him and pressing a glass of water into his hand.

Accepting the glass, Quatre drank gratefully, letting himself lean against Heero. He didn’t expect this to be a pleasant day. Being sick was bad enough without Heero pestering him constantly, but at least he knew it could be worse.

* * *

Quatre’s brain was foggy enough from sleep that he spent most of the day trying to figure out why he was letting Heero look after him. Heero wasn’t exactly the most gentle nurse, and he frustrated Quatre by constantly refusing him chances to get out of bed, (to make his own lunch, or to at move to the couch for an hour or two). Still, he was better than being sick all alone.

For some reason his treatment reminded Quatre of the cough drops he used to get as a child. They’d tasted so bad that there was no way he’d ever ask for one unless he really hurt, but once he reached that point he was grateful someone had kept them around.

Grateful as he was for Heero’s attention, there were just some things that weren’t right with the way Heero was acting.

“Didn’t I tell you not to camp out here? I thought you had somewhere to go.” Quatre should have been too weak to argue, but he had already slept most of the day and he was bored. If it would at least get Heero to talk to him it was worth it.

“I do. I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”

“You don’t have a job or anything?” Quatre didn’t know why he was pestering Heero, only he hadn’t heard from him at all in so long. He had no way of knowing what Heero was up to.

“I took some time off.”

“To come and bother me?” Quatre tried to laugh, but he only managed to send himself into another coughing fit. He didn’t want to say that Heero had put his life on hold for him. He didn’t believe it, and he didn’t want to.

Heero nodded silently. He sat up so he could reach Quatre’s water and handed it to him in silence.

Quatre drank just to stall for time. He had always imagined that if Heero ever came back into his life he could just send him right back out again. Instead he was curled up closer to Heero than he’d been to anyone in a year, being treated like an invalid because he’d run off and gotten sick just to avoid Heero’s advances.

Still, if they were stuck in this sort of limbo, wouldn’t Heero be feeling just as lost as he was? “I guess it didn’t turn out the way you expected.”

“No.” Heero touched the back of his neck, so softly Quatre that was barely aware of it.

Quatre hugged his pillow. He ached all over, but that wasn’t the only thing making him feel miserable. He didn’t know what to do with Heero. He never knew what to do with him now.

“Stop,” Quatre complained as Heero moved to rub his back, “I’m going to sleep now.”

Heero withdrew his hands. “If I get sick, you don’t have to take care of me,” he promised as he tucked the blanket around Quatre. Quatre wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be some sort of apology or a simple fact.

“If you get sick,” Quatre started, then hesitated. No. He was sure this was what he wanted to say, “you have to tell me where you’re staying, so I can look after you.”

Heero stood, turning away from Quatre.

“Promise?” Though Quatre didn’t think he would ever be able to work formal a promise out of Heero, he would try.

“Thank you,” was all Heero would say. It was enough for now.

* * *

Every night Heero was waiting for him when Quatre got home. For the first few nights the most he would do was press a few light kisses into Quatre’s hair before making sure he ate and putting him to bed. 

Quatre swallowed his nervousness seeing Heero there, hoping that this had to be better than things had been going so far.

Heero looked lost for a moment, then reached out and took Quatre’s hand between both of his. “I want to date you,” he informed Quatre, sounding as if this was a line he had carefully memorized in preparation for this moment.

Quatre didn’t know what he was supposed to say to this. He didn’t exactly want to get his heart broken again, but he was starting to think Heero had earned a second chance. “I,” he tried not to blush thinking how strange it felt saying this, “I would like to date you too.”

Heero nodded, digesting this information. “Now?”

Quatre sighed. “I’m tired right now.”

Heero would not be deterred. He leaned in close and left a kiss on Quatre’s cheek. “Now,” he insisted, “I want to be with you.”

This was not a statement Quatre thought he would ever want to argue with. “What do you want to do?” Not that Quatre had dated much, but he did get the feeling that dating required you to go somewhere or do something. He didn’t feel like doing either right now, but he thought he would prefer Heero’s company to simply stumbling off to bed as he had originally planned.

Heero stopped to consider this question. Quatre recognized the calculating looking his eyes that meant he was busy analyzing the problem.

“Movie,” he decided, “and dinner.” Quatre couldn’t help finding it odd that Heero was going about this in the same scientific way that he might work on dismantling a bomb. “That’s normal,” he added for Quatre’s benefit.

* * *

Quatre wasn’t sure how much thought Heero had put into their date before asking him out, but he strongly suspected that Heero had not put any thought into exactly what movie he felt like seeing. He seemed much more interested in taking advantage of the dark theater to kiss Quatre.

Now that he had fended off Heero’s latest attack, protesting that the people around them could see, Quatre had time to breathe and figure out just what Heero thought he was doing. Heero’s arm was looped loosely around his shoulders, but Quatre guessed he was plotting rather than actually watching the movie. The mystifying part of this for Quatre was that if Heero just wanted to sit somewhere and kiss him, they could have stayed at Quatre’s apartment.

What’s more, Quatre suddenly noticed, the movie was getting rather. . . Quatre didn’t think romantic was quite the right word when the two main characters looked like they were trying to eat one another’s faces off. Whatever it was called, it encouraged Heero to start up again.

“Heero, please,” Quatre scolded as Heero leaned over and kissed his ear. Heero nuzzled his cheek for a moment, waiting for Quatre to relent.

“One,” Quatre allowed, turning so that Heero could reach his mouth.

Heero was quick to take advantage of Quatre’s willingness. He took Quatre’s lips once, softly, before moving on to kiss all over his face.

“What are you doing?” Quatre asked, closing his eyes against Heero, only to have Heero leave a kiss on each eyelid. What he really meant was why, but he trusted Heero to figure that out.

“Isn’t this what people usually do?”

Quatre sighed and nodded in defeat. “But you can stop now.”

Heero backed off, but only by a few inches. “I want to.”

“What?” Quatre had learned not to assume that Heero would mean what he wanted him to mean.

“I want to kiss you.”

Quatre stilled, trying to reason his way out of this. He didn’t have to kiss Heero just because he felt sorry for him. He didn’t have to pretend to be a normal person out on a date. Only, he found he wanted to kiss Heero as well, especially now that he wasn’t being so frustratingly confusing.

Very softly, Quatre touched his lips against Heero’s, holding back uncertainly until he felt Heero’s other arm slip around his shoulders.

He realized that Heero wasn’t about to protest being kissed by him. Other people, however, weren’t about to accept their romance so quickly. The person behind them apparently was now fed up with their antics. He leaned forward and shook Heero’s shoulder.

“Some of us are trying to watch the damn movie,” he said, pointing behind himself in a jerky, irritable gesture, “go screw your girlfriend in the back row.”

Quatre’s brain was too fogged from Heero’s kisses to process this insult properly. The only thing that floated through his mind was ‘what girlfriend?’

Heero, on the other hand, had a pretty good idea what to do about this. Too fast for anyone to track he turned in his seat and lifted the offending complainer by the collar of his shirt. Heero didn’t say a word, instead he lifted his captive over the back of his seat, carried him to the end of the row, and threw him into the aisle.

Amid stares from the people who had noticed the ‘fight’ taking place nearby, Heero returned to his seat. For a minute Quatre wanted to scoot away from him, but then Heero slipped his arms around him and went back to kissing him just as gently as before.

* * *

“No more movies.” Quatre was too embarrassed to enjoy the feeling that Heero was willing to defend his honor. Though he was assuming that was what Heero was doing, he could have just been annoyed at the interruption. . . Either way, he was not giving Heero another chance to get them caught making out in public.

Heero stepped back, and Quatre shifted uncomfortably. Heero had been leaning in to kiss him goodnight. At least that was what he thought he was doing. It probably meant he was in trouble for trying to put his foot down.

“What then?”

Quatre tried to stay upset, but he was having a hard time. Heero sounded lost, even if it didn’t show on his face. It was actually a little cute.

Still, Quatre wasn’t going to back down. “If that was all you wanted, we could have just rented something and had some privacy,” he tried to explain.

Heero nodded, reaching forward to touch Quatre’s cheek. “Next time, then.”

* * *

‘Next time’ wasn’t the most successful date Quatre had ever had. Heero was perfectly willing to snuggle, probably willing to do a lot more than snuggle, but he had chosen the wrong time to display this willingness.

“Heero, please.” Quatre fended off yet another attack aimed at his neck. He had already missed half the stock report thanks to Heero pinning him.

Heero managed to get a good nip in on his shoulder anyway. “It was your idea,” he reminded Quatre.

“I said ‘rent a movie,’” Quatre insisted, “not keep me from watching the news.”

Heero slipped one arm past Quatre’s defenses and tugged him closer. “So put on a movie.”

“Heero,” Quatre pushed uselessly on Heero’s shoulder. He hoped his frustration would be plain from his voice, but Heero had to pursue the matter.

“Don’t you read the paper?” Heero paused, one hand just shy of brushing Quatre’s face. Quatre suspected he was considering just how important watching the news was, which Quatre had to admit was better than simply deciding it wasn’t important and trying to sidetrack him further.

“I don’t have time.”

Heero finally retreated to the other side of the couch, letting Quatre go completely.

As soon as he was gone Quatre missed him. He spared a look for Heero, trying to show him he was sorry to brush him off like that.

“In an hour or so,” Quatre promised. He would cuddle all Heero wanted then. No more interruptions.

Though by the time the ‘hour or so’ was up, Heero was no longer in the mood. He claimed he had to go home so he could get to bed. Apparently he had stopped taking time off from work now that he was no longer allowed to follow Quatre to his office.

Quatre had expected this, but he was still a little disappointed. He knew he couldn’t deal with Heero and have his normal life at the same time, he just wished there was a way to fit them around each other.

Nothing else he could do for now, Quatre moved to kiss Heero on the cheek.

“What?”

“Goodnight kiss,” Quatre explained, tracing one finger over Heero’s cheek sadly. He really had wanted to spend some time with him.

Heero turned to let Quatre kiss him on the mouth the second time. At least the evening wasn’t a complete loss.

* * *

“Why are you always here?” Quatre asked one night, sitting on the floor beside Heero instead of letting him in as usual.

“Because you’re here.”

Quatre looked away to keep from catching Heero’s eye. “That’s all?”

Heero watched him for a long moment. Shifting closer, he rested his hand on Quatre’s shoulder before he answered, “I can take you to my apartment.”

Quatre shrugged it off and stood up. “No, not tonight.” He was still a little uncomfortable having Heero in his apartment. He didn’t want to be stuck in unfamiliar territory with him. He was too tired for this tonight.

Heero didn’t seem at all upset by Quatre putting him off. He put his hand on Quatre’s leg instead. “We could just go out,” he suggested. Quatre thought Heero must somehow sense that he didn’t want to let him in.

Quatre swallowed the urge to refuse on principle after the trouble they had at the movies. He wanted to be able to give Heero a chance once in a while. “Where?”

“Anywhere.” Heero stood and held his hand out to help Quatre up.

That sounded fine to Quatre. He accepted the hand-up, even though he didn’t particularly need it, and kept his hand in Heero’s as they started for the elevator.

Heero didn’t let go of his hand, even once they were out in the street. Quatre didn’t mind this at all. He contentedly followed Heero’s lead for a while, before changing direction and leading Heero for a few blocks.

They didn’t aim for a specific place, each taking turns following the other. It was at least pleasant for Quatre to be out and walking. He was enjoying the diversion more than he had expected to. Even though he had been tired when they started the exercise was helping to wake him up.

Heero kept close to him, finally messing up their game of switching off leaders by pulling on Quatre’s arm and making it impossible for him to take back control without making a scene.

Quatre quickly realized where Heero was taking him, towards to park where Heero had found him before in the rain. Quatre didn’t really want to end up back there, but all he could do was dig in his heels and give Heero unhappy looks, and Heero didn’t seem to care.

Quatre wondered if Heero had made up his mind that this would be their destination when he suggested going out.

Heero led him inside, onto a familiar gravel path. Quatre realized he could see another path beside them through a thin fringe of skinny trees. The whole park was actually a study of packing as much as possible into a small space while making it appear larger than it actually was. Quatre stared around at his surroundings to keep from having to look Heero in the eye.

Heero dragged lightly on Quatre’s arm, making him walk closer. He didn’t stop pulling until Quatre was close enough for their shoulders to brush, and even then it probably had more to do with the fact that Quatre had stopped walking than with them being as close as he wanted.

“Why here?”

Heero stepped towards Quatre instead of trying to pull him closer again. “It’s quiet.”

Quatre decided not to pay attention to any of the arguments that had popped into his head at that moment. It was quiet at least.

Instead of fighting, he squeezed Heero’s hand and started walking again. He felt safe enough being with Heero for now, and the park really was pleasant.

“You still don’t want to see my apartment?” Heero asked after several minutes of aimless wandering. “We’re close.”

“Why?” Quatre wanted to know. Heero looked at him strangely and he realized that it probably sounded like he was asking why he would want to, so he clarified. “Why do you keep asking?”

“I don’t think you believe it exists,” Heero said, “besides, we’re close.”

“Lead on.”

Heero obliged, guiding Quatre to the far end of the park, down two blocks of quiet, tightly packed, residential area, and into an imposing building. Looking up at it, Quatre wondered about the way the upper floors seemed to be made up entirely of windows. There was nothing particularly interesting to see, and nearly all of them were covered by curtains, blinds or, in one case, squares of cardboard.

Heero led him past an elevator with an ‘under repair, please use stairs’ sign which seemed to be welded on the door, and up three fights of stairs to a brightly lit hall.

Quatre waited beside Heero, still not letting go of his hand as he watched Heero unlock the door to his apartment. He wasn’t sure what to expect once he got inside. It had been a long time since he had lived with Heero, after all.

When Heero had the door unlocked, he slipped his arm all the way around Quatre’s back before taking him inside.

Quatre didn’t know how to describe what he was seeing, except as a well organized mess. Neat piles of boxes and papers where arranged all over the living room, leaving an obvious path between them. Quatre didn’t doubt that Heero would somehow know exactly what was in each pile, even if he had a little trouble retrieving it.

“I know it’s a mess,” Heero was telling him as he picked his way between the piles and cleared a space on the couch for Quatre, “I need to get some good bookshelves.”

Quatre looked around at the piles, not at all sure what to think. “Did you just move in?”

“Mm.” Heero looked up. “I thought you knew.”

“You didn’t move here because of me,” Quatre burst out, before he could stop himself.

“No, I moved because of work.” Heero sat down on the couch, patting the space beside him to encourage Quatre. After Quatre had stared at him in disbelief for a minute he added, “You just helped convince me, that’s all.”

“Heero,” Quatre started softly, before realizing he had no idea what he wanted to say. He sat quickly beside Heero instead, looking around at Heero’s apartment. Even though he knew Heero had been around for two months, it was sadly lacking in furniture. He didn’t even have a proper desk.

If he shifted a little, Quatre found he could see into the other rooms. The only one that seemed to be clear of piles was the tiny space that served as a kitchen. It was completely clear of clutter.

Had he really been a part of Heero’s decision to come here? That made Quatre’s heart flip in happiness. He turned and snuggled against Heero.

“Tomorrow, do you want to come over for dinner?”

* * *

Even Quatre had found a dish or two that he could master. By the time he got home after work he tended to feel too tired to do anything fancy, too impatient to take the time to go out for dinner, and not at all inclined to hire any sort of cook. He could at least handle anything that needed heating up, and could throw together a few simple things.

It wasn’t until he had Heero over for dinner that Quatre thought of how long it had been since he had eaten with anyone. Anyone who wasn’t a business partner, anyway. It made him feel oddly like a hermit, hidden away in his apartment as if it was a mountain cave.

He wasted a few minutes on deliberation, trying to decide if he should try his hand at something fancy or stick with something that he had little chance of ruining.

Simple was the easy choice. He was too hungry and grumpy to make a big production out of dinner. He had a casserole-like thing he had put together the day before and never gotten a chance to cook. He threw that into the oven and let it take care of itself.

Heero appeared almost an hour later, not long enough for the hot dish to finish cooking, and certainly not long enough for Quatre to make anything fancy. His hands found and caught Quatre’s hips as soon as he opened the door. Quatre let Heero tug him close and kiss his face before he hauled him inside.

“Where do you want to go?” Heero asked, looking behind him, as if considering pulling Quatre back out the open door.

“I’m cooking.” Quatre reached around Heero and closed the door, daring Heero to comment on his the lack of skill he had shown in the kitchen last time he had cooked for the two of them.

Heero didn’t say a word, but kissed Quatre again, this time on the lips. Quatre couldn’t help being nervous at the familiar way Heero had treated him ever since they had started talking again.

“Do you want something to drink?” Quatre asked quickly. He dodged Heero’s hands and made his way back towards the kitchen. Heero didn’t take the hint and followed him.

“We’re having iced tea with dinner,” Quatre told him as he buried himself in the refrigerator, trying to think of what he needed besides the hot dish itself. He has picked a salad on the way home. He had not yet used up the last of the butter, so he could put out bread with dinner.

Bread. Quatre looked around wildly. Where was it? Had he remembered to pick up any last week? He could have sworn that he had half a loaf of french bread, if only he could remember where he put it.

“Need any help?” Heero asked. He leaned heavily on Quatre and watched over his shoulder as Quatre pulled out the tea.

“No. It’s fine.” Quatre answered distractedly. Where had he put that bread? Not in the breadbasket, he only had muffins in there. Was it in one of the cupboards? Maybe it was in the freezer. He hadn’t planned to use it for a while and hadn’t wanted to let it get moldy.

“Quatre,” Heero murmured, kissing his ear.

“Leave me alone for a minute. You’re distracting me.”

Heero sulked, but left Quatre alone and finally edged out of the kitchen.

Quatre threw together his salad, then tossed it on the table along with the butter, three types of salad dressing, plates and silverware, and salt and pepper. He had to stop and throw out one of the bottles of dressing because it was almost four months past its expiration date, refill the salt shaker, and find the butter knife before he was satisfied.

He finally found the bread in the freezer and stuck it in the microwave to thaw it. He turned to check the main dish, then had to dash back to the microwave when he realized that he had wrapped the bread in tinfoil and it was shooting off sparks.

By the time he had everything put together for a simple dinner for two, he was very relieved that he had chased Heero out of the kitchen. Even when he didn’t want to impress Heero, he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of him either.

Dinner was one of the mixtures Quatre had accidently ‘invented’ by not having the ingredients he needed for a specific recipe and not wanting to take the time to go shopping. He had yet to master a dish that didn’t consist of some variation of meat, pasta, and a few vegetables mixed together with cheese melted on top. The hot dish seemed comfortably basic to Quatre.

Heero, however, looked strangely impressed. He complimented Quatre repeatedly, until Quatre glared at his plate, strongly tempted to ask if Heero had expected food poisoning. He could certainly arrange that next time. He also suspected that Heero could tell that the sauce came from a can and the salad had come in a bag.

If they were going to be domestic, Quatre figured he could at least shift the conversation away from his damn hot dish.

“How was work?”

Heero shoved a fork-full of salad into his mouth to keep from answering. Quatre was oddly pleased by this reaction, even though it delayed him actually getting an answer.

“Fine. Everything was fine.”

Heero shrugged, and Quatre began to suspect that this was a sore topic for him. He pushed. “You haven’t even told me what you do.”

“I’m working with Une,” Heero said.

Quatre digested this tidbit of information. “You’re a preventer?” He stopped to sip at his tea and watch Heero not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m surprised you can come over so often.”

“I have a desk job.”

Quatre waited for Heero to break the tension, half-sure that this was a joke. “So. . . you don’t have to move around very much. I’m glad for that.”

Heero did not look at all glad. He stabbed at his salad. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

Quatre wondered just what was wrong with Heero. He suspected this ‘desk job’ would take advantage of Heero’s computer skills. He could be a formidable information collector if he set his mind to it. He waited another minute to see if Heero would enlighten him on his own.

“I get to bail out children with no idea what they’re doing. ‘Children’ who are twice our age with no real training to show for it. Oh, and deal with morons who shouldn’t be let near a computer.” Heero said all of this very calmly, but Quatre could see his fork bending in his grip. “Or a tie.”

Quatre was silent. He wasn’t sure if he should collaborate with Heero or let him rant. It was obvious that this was an issue that had been irritating Heero for a long time, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

“I’m surprised they wouldn’t want you out in the field,” Quatre finally offered. He was sure Heero could handle anything he wanted to, after watching him in action.

“I haven’t exactly got an inconspicuous face. I can’t be out gathering information if I’m going to be recognized easily.”

Quatre knew what he meant. For several months at the end of the war as peace treaties were drawn up and miraculous negotiations held between people who would normally have nothing to do with one another, Heero’s face had shown up on the news nearly every night. It had been all Quatre could do to keep from receiving the same treatment.

He reached for Heero’s hand, wishing he could offer something to make up for Heero’s extreme annoyance, when Heero muttered, “a little plastic surgery and I could-”

Quatre made a loud noise of protest in his throat. He liked Heero the way he was. He didn’t want Heero to go making himself unrecognizable.

Heero put his fork down moodily.

“You think I would have let you in if I didn’t recognize you?” Quatre could see Heero’s problem. Even after getting a few years to grow from a teen into a man, it was still obvious who he was. But he liked the way Heero looked. He didn’t want to see Heero wearing someone else’s face.

Heero didn’t seem to think the was much of a consolation, which made Quatre inclined to sulk. If Heero didn’t care what he thought, fine. Just for that, he wouldn’t let a Heero who wasn’t Heero into his apartment. It would serve him right.

They both chewed in sullen silence, each too annoyed with the other to bother with conversation. Quatre was determined to be glad he didn’t have to hear Heero’s empty compliments any more.

Even trying to be stubborn, Quatre was the first to give in. He wanted to at least shift Heero’s mind away from the topic of plastic surgery.

“Why wouldn’t you trust your, um . . . colleagues with a tie?”

“Because if they ever tried to tie one themselves, they’d probably strangle themselves.”

Quatre noted that Heero didn’t look as irritable anymore, so he encouraged him. “They’re that uncoordinated?”

“They’re that stupid.”

Quatre reached up to finger his own tie, smiling in spite of himself. “I’ll have to be careful about that.” He looked up at Heero and found it impossible to imagine him in a suit and tie. “Do you have to wear one at work? I hope you don’t have to help people with that too.”

Heero grumbled, then stood and crossed the table to where Quatre was sitting. He bent down to take hold of Quatre’s tie himself. “Not really,” he answered, though Quatre couldn’t be sure which part he was answering.

Then Heero yanked him up by the tie, pulling him out of the chair and dragging him close enough to kiss. Quatre let out a cry of pain before his mouth was covered by Heero’s.

“What the hell was that about!?” Quatre demanded.

Heero let go of his tie, and rubbed his hands over Quatre’s shoulders. “It just came to me. I’ve finally found a use for those damn things.”

Quatre shoved Heero away, “what, you want to strangle me yourself? That hurt!”

Heero’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He let go of Quatre, who stalked away from the table. He was no longer hungry.

“Finish your dinner, I’m going to take a shower.”

Before Heero could protest, Quatre ducked out of the kitchen. He paused outside, hoping Heero would follow him. He was annoyed, but not so much so that he didn’t want to make up.

After several minutes, Quatre let out a soft sigh, resigned to the fact that Heero didn’t want to make up as much as he did, and that he couldn’t exactly go back after storming out on him like that. He went to take a shower.

By the time Quatre got out of the shower, Heero was gone. He was surprised to find that he had left the kitchen spotless, except for a scrap of paper on the table, thanking him for dinner.

* * *

“You’re the one who wanted to come over, can’t you at least sit by me?”

Quatre looked up from where he was curled up against the armrest of Heero’s couch. Heero was on the other side, waiting for him to move.

“I’m comfortable.”

“I can make you even more comfortable.” Quatre’s skin prickled at the slight innuendo in Heero’s voice. He really would like to scoot over and get comfortable with Heero, but he was still trying to resist. Even after Heero had started talking to him again, Quatre hadn’t made the move to restart the physical part of their relationship.

He remembered the way his resistance had melted under Heero’s hands before. At least for now, he wanted his mind clear while he was dealing with Heero. He also didn’t want to let on yet how much he wanted to be close to Heero.

“I’m fine.”

“Aren’t you chilly?” Heero asked. Quatre could feel his heart jump at the thought of Heero warming him. He truly did love Heero. He loved being around him, or just thinking about him. Even waiting for him was becoming a thrill, thinking about what would happen next, and Heero never kept him waiting for too long and ruined it.

He still didn’t want to get hurt. Quatre loved Heero even more than he had before, but he was still afraid to ask what Heero felt for him. After having his heart broken once he was wary of trusting Heero, no matter how much he cared for him.

On the other hand, Heero had been the one to come to him when Quatre had thought he would never see him again. Maybe he should trust Heero and just love him. He still wasn’t quite ready, but if Heero could just be patient a little longer. . . .

“I’ll be fine.”

* * *

It was getting harder to work out how he felt about Heero. Quatre had thought he was in love for so long, but hadn’t he been resisting Heero every time he got too close? He was too afraid that he would never work out what Heero felt, too afraid to throw himself into his feelings and let himself be hurt.

‘I don’t understand you,’ Heero had told him. Quatre’s chest had contracted at those words, making it impossible to find the breath to argue.

He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t trust his ability to understand Heero either. He couldn’t tell Heero that he was afraid to trust him.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t say it. He suspected that Heero somehow knew he wasn’t trusted.

‘This was pointless,’ Heero had muttered, almost to himself, ‘never should have tried to see you again.’

Quatre’s conscience stung. He couldn’t help feeling that he hadn’t tried hard enough to understand, feeling that he should have just loved Heero and enjoyed him while he was still near.

‘I don’t want to see you again.’

“Heero.”

It was all the sound Quatre could summon, then or now. Words swam in his head, ‘Love you. Love you madly, so much it hurts,’ but he hadn’t said them. He had only called out to Heero, and he had faltered without Heero’s response.

Quatre curled in on himself. He was alone now, alone in the dark. Heero had left him with only a few words whispered in his ear. Just a few words to remember him by.

He shouldn’t find himself needing Heero. He should be immune to that by now. He had at least been given the chance to shield himself.

It didn’t matter that he had tried to distance himself, he had still been in love. Being cold couldn’t keep him from being happy with Heero near him. Ignoring that couldn’t keep him from hurting now.

It didn’t matter that he hurt. He would heal, move on, maybe be torn apart again later. Quatre told himself he didn’t want to care anymore.

He just couldn’t believe it, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself. He hurt. He wanted to lash out, to do something other than feel miserable. He wanted to grab Heero, drag him back. He wanted an understanding between them. . . he wanted to find a way to understand.

It didn’t matter what he felt if he couldn’t express it. Quatre pressed hands to his head, trying to sort himself out. If he couldn’t do something with a feeling other than hide it as deep as he could, he might as well not feel it at all. If he couldn’t act on what he felt, then as far as Heero was concerned, that feeling did not exist at all.

Quatre hung on to himself, trying to be calm. He had given up hope already. Heero wasn’t going to love him, but he could at least show him. If Heero wanted to understand, he could at least give him that.

Hope was dead. All Quatre had left was love for Heero, he needed to at least offer that love.

Quatre relaxed enough to let himself uncurl. One last time, he would have to seek him out. This time it was for Heero.

* * *

Quatre meant to tell Heero how he felt and have the whole thing resolved, but it wasn’t exactly working out that way.

“Tell me to leave and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

“If I never wanted to see you again, I wouldn’t have bothered,” Quatre pointed out.

“I thought you just wanted to be sure,” Heero said. He crossed his arms, looking utterly unconcerned. “After all, you were so angry when I showed up before. I guess you didn’t want to see me again.”

“That’s not it,” Quatre protested.

“If you want a promise to leave you alone, it’s yours.”

“That’s not what I want.” Quatre wanted to reach for Heero, and he had to clench his hands at his side to keep himself from doing it.

“You only have to ask.” Heero had an odd expression on his face, as if he couldn’t believe Quatre was arguing with his offers. “Anything for you.” The fake affection in that comment made Quatre feel sick inside.

“You’re not even listing to me,” Quatre protested.

“I’m listening. What did you want to say if this wasn’t about making sure I won’t pop up where you don’t want me again?”

“Stop interrupting.”

Heero fell silent, watching Quatre warily. It occurred to Quatre that he might be expecting to hear an angry rant, at the very least. He wanted to reassure Heero that he wasn’t angry with him.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Quatre explained, “I’m not upset.”

“I know you want to talk to me. What is it?”

Quatre tried not to be irritated with the way Heero was acting. He should have known this was pointless. He was starting to suspect Heero of tormenting him on purpose. Heero didn’t really want to understand him. He just wanted to watch him struggle.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” Quatre started. He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he had started with the wrong part of the explanation.

“And you’ve done a admirable job,” Heero pointed out. “So what did you need to talk about?”

“No, that’s not-”

“You don’t love me. I understand. Let’s move on.”

Quatre studied the carpet, feeling hurt. He felt stupid for ever trying to explain anything to Heero. He felt worse because he couldn’t get himself to stop feeling for Heero, even while he was angry with the idiot way he was insisting on acting.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I want you to leave,” Quatre kept his eyes fixed on Heero’s feet. He didn’t want Heero to see the tears gathering in his eyes. “You said. . . I’d never have to see you again.”

“Quatre,” Heero reached for him. Quatre couldn’t place the tone in Heero’s voice. If he hadn’t known that Heero wanted nothing more to do with him he might have mistaken it for concern.

Suddenly he didn’t care if Heero saw his tears. He glared up into the face of the man he loved and yelled, “I don’t want to see you again!”

Heero took a step back, and there was something. . . it wasn’t anything Quatre could see, but he thought he could feel Heero’s hurt. The stab of a breaking heart was so familiar. It had to be his heart. What did Heero have to be hurt about? He was the one who was always hurting Quatre.

“Quatre,” Heero sounded lost. His fingers twitched as if he would like to reach for Quatre again, but he kept his arm firmly at his side. “Whatever you want.”

Quatre bit down his urge to call him back as Heero turned away from him. He forced out different words instead.

“I’ll return the favor,” Quatre wished he could choke and suffocate on the words instead of having to say them, “you won’t have to hear from me again.”

Heero stopped and stood perfectly still. Quatre longingly traced his tense form with his eyes alone. He blinked back tears, not wanting to have his last sight of Heero blurred with them.

A stiff nod, and Heero turned out of Quatre’s sight. After another few seconds Quatre managed to make himself move as well. It didn’t even occur to him to follow Heero and make sure that he left. Heero must want to be away from him. He wouldn’t hang around long.

There was a tight feeling in Quatre’ chest that was all too familiar. He couldn’t breathe. He remembered from the sleepless nights he had spent what he needed to do. He needed air. He needed the cold comfort of the night air.

Stumbling slightly, Quatre made his way into his bedroom. He felt a strange rush of relief that his bed was empty. With Heero gone he didn’t want to find anyone else there.

The lonely relief only lasted for a few seconds before the pain in his throat and chest tightened again. Quatre fixed his eyes on the window and staggered towards it, blind to everything else around him. He didn’t waste any time with flinging it open.

A cool breeze rushed in to dry Quatre’s tears. Already he could breathe again as he slumped onto the wide windowsill. Quatre let his eyes move up to search for the moon. Tonight it was projected as a sharp sliver, almost completely dark.

“Heero,” Quatre gasped, “I. . . I need. . .” he wanted to pour out his soul in a confession, to cry his love up into the painted sky, hoping that Heero might hear him below. Just trying to speak made his chest tighten up with tears again, until he had to concentrate on breathing.

“What is wrong with you?”

Quatre turned his eyes away from the window and looked back at Heero standing in the doorway. He had to be imagining it. He had told Heero to leave, and Heero had gone. Heero had wanted to leave.

Quatre shivered, though it had nothing to do with the puffs of cool air finding their way through the window. He wondered if he had to be insane to see Heero standing there. He didn’t want to be insane, even if it did mean he wouldn’t have to be lonely again. Even worse, he didn’t feel insane at all, which made the thought much more terrifying.

“Heero,” Quatre started, then bit his tongue to stop himself. If the Heero standing before him was a delusion, then it wouldn’t be a good idea to start questioning him about his sanity.

Heero was moving slowly closer. His eyes were fixed on Quatre. It was a long shot, but Quatre would have to try talking to him.

“What are you doing back here?” Quatre asked softly, trying not to spoil the illusion, if that was what Heero really was. “Talk to me.”

“I was worried about you,” Heero held out his arms, “come show me you’re alright.”

Quatre considered this answer. If he was insane, and Heero was his delusion, than he probably would have had him declare his undying love for Quatre right that moment. Unless Quatre’s madness was more subtle than that. The air was clearing his head. He did hope that this was real, but Heero was acting so strangely. Quatre couldn’t understand the way he was behaving at all.

“Come here,” Heero coaxed. It was almost like he was trying to speak to a frightened child. Quatre wished he would act more like his normal self.

Another few steps, and Heero was close enough to snatch Quatre away from the window. He swept Quatre down into the room, placing himself firmly between Quatre and the open window.

“What did you think you were doing!?” Heero demanded. Quatre would have smiled if Heero wasn’t yelling at him. This was more like the Heero he knew. Heero shoved Quatre away and turned to close the window. Then, to Quatre’s shock, he bent the lock double, effectively sealing it shut. Quatre stared. Heero had bent the metal with his bare hand.

“Trying to kill yourself again?” Heero grabbed Quatre by the shoulders to give him a firm shake. Quatre tried to squirm away from him. In the next moment Heero’s expression softened. He hugged Quatre into his arms and held him tight.

“Why?” Heero whispered against Quatre’s hair as he cradled him, “why?”

“I’m not,” Quatre tried to explain, “I just needed some fresh air.”

Heero sat down on the window sill. If anything, he was hugging Quatre even tighter. Quatre didn’t know what to think of this behavior. He hadn’t seen Heero like this in a long time, but it somehow managed to reassure him that this was the real Heero.

“What am I doing wrong?” Heero asked. He was stroking Quatre’s hair and back to soothe him, but Quatre thought Heero was the one who really needed soothing. His hands were shaking.

Quatre didn’t know how to answer, so he reached up and hugged Heero instead.

“I tried to make you happy,” Heero muttered to himself.

“Did you?” Quatre stared up into Heero’s face, only wanting to know. “So you didn’t even want to be with me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Heero said defensively, tightening his hold on Quatre.

“Make up your mind.” Quatre couldn’t summon the strength to glare. He tried to turn his face away, but Heero’s hand on his chin gently turned him back. “I want to know. Do you want me or not?” Quatre had almost asked ‘do you love me or not?’ but he didn’t dare.

“You weren’t trying to kill yourself?”

“For the last time: No!” Quatre was throughly sick of Heero thinking he was suicidal. “Now why can’t you answer my questions?”

Heero wouldn’t look at him, though he kept his arms around Quatre.

“Heero. . .” Quatre wanted to be answered for once, preferably with the truth.

Heero shook his head. “I thought you wanted me over to tell me something.”

“I don’t know what I want to say anymore.” That was more or less true. Quatre took a minute to collect himself before explaining, “I wanted to say I love you. I never wanted to fall for you, and I know it’s going to end badly, but I just can’t help it.” He wouldn’t look at Heero’s face, afraid he would snap again if he did.

“I’m going to look after you for tonight.” Heero half-dragged Quatre away from the window and forcibly tucked him in bed.

Quatre grumbled to himself that he didn’t want to sleep, but he knew Heero wouldn’t let him open the window for some fresh air, and he didn’t know what else to do. To his surprise, Heero settled next to him. It looked like Heero wasn’t going to let him go.

Heero’s hands started to explore his body, pushing up his shirt under the covers and touching his stomach. Quatre thrashed away from his hands.

“No!” Quatre didn’t want his sense to be swallowed up by Heero’s touch.

Heero slipped one arm cautiously around Quatre instead. For once Quatre found that he could read Heero’s expression. He was apprehensive that Quatre would push him away again.

Quatre curled a little closer, smiled to show Heero it was all right to stay, and allowed himself to feel safe in Heero’s arms. Already Heero looked sleepy. He wasn’t trying anything else.

Quatre was so warm. Even the cold heartbreak that always seemed to be aching inside of his chest was warmed for the moment. That made him think of something. If Heero still couldn’t love him, if he would still leave Quatre in the morning. . .

“Let me stop loving you.” Quatre gave Heero a little shake, and received only a sleepy snuggle in return. On some level he knew that he was being incoherent, but he didn’t care.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

Why did that hurt? It was what Quatre wanted. At least, it was what Quatre thought he wanted. If he couldn’t have Heero love him, he could at least have Heero not hurting him.

“You’re cruel.” Quatre tried to get away, but he found himself caught from behind and hugged even more securely than before.

“I want you to be happy,” Heero’s tried to explain. His next words were something Quatre was completely unprepared for. They stabbed right into his heart. “I love you.”

Quatre pressed his face into Heero’s chest. He was sure that Heero thought it was better to leave on a happy note, that it was the easiest way to keep Quatre from calling him back, but that was going too far.

Love? How could he believe that? Any place Quatre had thought to look for signs of Heero’s love had turned up completely barren of emotion. “Please don’t lie to me.”

Heero didn’t protest, though he pressed his face into Quatre’s hair and wouldn’t let him move. He shuddered once or twice, but that was it.

If Quatre hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Heero was crying. As it was, he must be imagining that his hair was dampened by a few painful tears. There was no way Heero could cry over him, not just because it was completely outside of his normal attitude.

Quatre didn’t want to believe that he could make Heero cry.

* * *

Morning brought new awareness to Quatre. He had promised himself this would be for Heero. Now he was furious with himself. Hadn’t he had wanted to understand Heero? If Heero had been serious last night, and he had just brushed him aside like that. . .

“Heero,” Quatre murmured, fingers ghosting across Heero’s face. Heero was still asleep at his side, though Quatre knew it wouldn’t take much to wake him.

He was right. As soon as he spoke, Heero stirred. Quatre snuggled closer, trying to reassure himself, as well as be sure that Heero wouldn’t abandon him abruptly again.

“About last night,” Quatre said, trying not to let his voice shake, “Heero, love, did you. . . ?”

Heero shook his head, fingers covering Quatre’s mouth for silence. Quatre faltered for a moment, but he couldn’t let himself fail that easily.

“What you said last night,” Quatre had to pull Heero’s hand away from his face when Heero tried to silence him again, “did you really mean that?”

“What did I say?”

Quatre knew Heero had to be bluffing. He had to know what it was Quatre found important.

“I already told you that I love you,” Quatre pressed his cheek into Heero’s shoulder for reassurance, forgetting to hold him captive, “so tell me, did you really mean what you said, or was that just your way of making our last night . . . amicable.”

Heero sat up to dislodge Quatre. Quatre went still, waiting to be pushed away. If this was the last time he saw Heero, then there was no point in fighting it.

“If that was our last night,” Heero said, hand tracing down Quatre’s side through the sheets, “then it doesn’t matter what I feel.” Before Quatre could protest he was out of bed, pulling his rumpled clothes into place. “It doesn’t matter what you feel, either.”

Quatre pushed himself out of bed, catching Heero from behind and wrapping his arms around him. “What do you mean, ‘if?’ You’re talking like there’s still a choice.” Quatre nuzzled into Heero’s back. “I don’t want you to leave,” he let out a strained laugh, trying not to sound pained, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Heero reached up and laid his hands on Quatre’s arms, “what makes you think I want you to say anything?”

“I think . . . there’s something you want.” Quatre kissed Heero’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to do for you.”

“Don’t.” Quatre felt the shudder that went through Heero with that word. He reluctantly loosened his grip.

“You want me to let go?” Quatre whispered against Heero’s ear, “if you don’t want to, I can’t stop you any more . . . I. . . .”

“You want me to stay?”

Quatre loosened his grip long enough for Heero to face him before slipping his arms around him again. “Yes.” Quatre pressed his cheek against Heero’s, afraid to look him in the eye. “Always.”

Heero moved quickly, pushing Quatre away from him onto the bed. He leaned over Quatre, eyes locked on his. “Distract me, then. Talk to me.”

Quatre reached for Heero, but he didn’t quite touch him this time. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then just tell me the truth.”

Quatre licked his lips before pushing himself up to kiss Heero lightly on the mouth, trying to make words unnecessary. “I love you.”

“You keep saying that.” Heero sat up, pulling away from Quatre.

Quatre put his arms around Heero and pulled him back down. “I want to say it again. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Heero rested on Quatre’s chest, defeated. “And you want me to return the favor?”

“I’ve given up on that.” Quatre closed his eyes painfully for a moment before continuing, “I don’t expect anything from you. I just love. . .”

Quatre couldn’t help being surprised when Heero let himself be kissed. After one kiss he couldn’t stop. Over and over he claimed Heero’s lips, whispering half-coherent thoughts in between. “I missed you. I ache inside, each time you just leave me. I knew you’d just leave and never come back. I didn’t want to get close to you. I didn’t want to get used to having you near. I didn’t want to need you again.”

“You win, then.” Heero’s hand was in Quatre’s hair, pulling him back. “You don’t need me.”

Quatre was still and silent as Heero pressed a hesitant kiss to his forehead and turned to leave.

“It doesn’t feel like I don’t need you,” Quatre whispered, “it still hurts when you leave.”

Heero paused. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“You said you didn’t understand me.” Quatre forced himself to stay still, to not go after Heero. “And I thought if I told you, you might help me understand too. I want to understand you.”

Heero crossed his arms, but didn’t make a sound. Quatre waited for him to say something, anything, or to just walk away, but Heero didn’t move.

Slowly, Quatre sat up, stretching out his hand until he could touch Heero’s back. He continued in a soft voice, afraid that anything else would break this momentary truce with Heero, “you know, I thought you were in love with me.”

“In love with you?” Heero’s voice was cold, without the slightest inflection.

“I didn’t know any better,” Quatre tried to protest. He bit his lip, fingers trailing across Heero’s back as he tried to rationalize. He really had thought that Heero could feel that way. He smiled at himself in spite of the situation. “And then I thought you were completely cold. And just when I thought you didn’t care at all you would go and do something so sweet I couldn’t believe it. I never know what to think of you. I just wish I could know what you think of me.”

“What do you want to hear?”

Quatre’s hand stilled, his eyes fixed on Heero’s back. He wanted so badly to get closer, but he didn’t want to scare Heero away. “Does it matter?”

Quatre felt muscles tense under his hand. He knew Heero was annoyed with his answer. He had probably been pushing Heero closer to the edge with every word. Any minute now Heero would be gone.

Quatre let his fingers fall, defeated. “You’re hot and cold, anyway. You could tell me you hate me, and a week later you could be back. You could throw me down now, and. . .” Quatre blushed and skipped over what exactly Heero could do, “in a few days it won’t matter at all, will it?”

Heero finally turned back to Quatre. His gaze raked over Quatre’s body once before he moved again, stepping closer.

“Heero?” Quatre wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull away or not. “What are you doing?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Heero caught Quatre in his arms and pulled him close against his chest.

Quatre tilted his face towards Heero’s. “Then tell me.”

“I want you so much, but you won’t let me close, but if I try to leave you won’t let me go.” Heero let out a frustrated sound, resting his forehead against Quatre’s as he asked, “what am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” Quatre smiled weakly, “what do you want to do?”

Heero shook his head. “My choice?”

Quatre let his smile widen as he began to feel more sure of himself, “Heero.”

Heero kissed Quatre softly to silence him. “My choice,” he asserted.

Quatre had to force himself to step back when Heero let him go. It was the only way to keep himself from trying to cling to Heero. He had agreed that it would be Heero’s choice, after all.

Heero leaned forward and gave Quatre one last kiss before turning away again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Quatre couldn’t believe his ears at first, “Heero? Did you. . . ?”

“Tomorrow,” Heero promised. He captured Quatre’s gaze, making sure he knew he was serious.

Quatre had to struggle to get any words out around his surprise, “I love you.”

“You keep saying that.”

* * *

Tomorrow, Heero had said. Tomorrow had become today, and Quatre didn’t know what to do with himself. He had tried to give Heero everything. He had tried to deny Heero anything. What came next? What did Heero want from him?

Quatre couldn’t bear to think about it anymore. Everything he had done, he had only made himself miserable, and he had ended up losing Heero after all. Even if he got this one last chance, there was nothing he could do with it.

He couldn’t tear himself up anymore. He loved Heero. He had gone and fallen deeper in love over the past few weeks, just by seeing Heero again. He could only love him. Quatre decided that at last. He was too tired for games. He just hoped Heero would be straightforward in the end.

Except Heero still hadn’t shown up. Quatre had been waiting outside his apartment, not wanting to miss Heero when he actually came, but it was starting to look like he wasn’t coming.

Maybe Heero had lied so he could make a clean getaway. It wasn’t impossible, even though Quatre didn’t want to suspect that. Maybe Heero had just changed his mind later.

Quatre decided he was just going to have to trust Heero to knock when and if he actually did come. With a sigh of defeat, Quatre finally let himself in.

Heero was already there waiting for him, standing beside the kitchen table.

“How did you get in?” Quatre asked, taken aback.

Heero took Quatre’s hand and pressed a key into it. “You gave this to me. When we were living together.”

It was the same key, Quatre realized. He had never thought to change the locks. He had forgotten Heero even had the key. But if he’d kept it all that time, why hadn’t he tried to let himself in before this?

“You’re giving it back?”

Heero looked uncomfortable. “If you want me to.” He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down quickly at the kitchen table. “I just thought you should have a choice.”

Quatre fingered the key silently. Heero was offering the choice of kicking him out?

Heero pushed a second chair out and Quatre took it. He wasn’t sure if he should try to say something, or wait to let Heero sort out his thoughts. Luckily Heero didn’t keep him waiting long.

“I really thought I would have something to say when I got here,” Heero started with. He looked up at Quatre and continued, “but I’m probably not going to make any more sense than you do, telling me you love me all the time.”

“I meant it,” Quatre protested. “I can’t help it.”

“I don’t think I even know what love means,” Heero burst out angrily, slamming his hand down on the table and making Quatre jump. “And if I say it just to make you happy, you’ll just have another fit.”

Quatre tried to think of a way to deal with Heero’s non-confession while Heero twisted his fingers in his hair, staring down at the table.

“This was a bad idea,” Heero finally said, starting to rise out of his chair.

“Wait.” Quatre quickly put one hand on Heero’s arm. He thought he knew how to phrase what he wanted to know. “Why do you want to make me happy?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” Quatre waited a few seconds, but Heero seemed to be at a loss. “Do you feel like you owe me something?” he suggested.

“No.” Heero sounded annoyed at the suggestion. “There isn’t a reason why. I just want to see you happy.”

Quatre smiled shakily. If Heero wasn’t doing something for him because he thought he had to, or because he thought it would make a cleaner break between them, Quatre felt had no reason to be upset at anything he did.

“There,” Heero cupped Quatre’s cheek with one hand. “That’s why.”

Quatre’s smile grew. He turned just enough to kiss Heero’s hand. “Why?”

Heero faltered, unable to find words. “Because I like it,” was all he could say.

That was enough for Quatre. “Then isn’t that good enough?”

Heero gave him a suspicious look. “Enough for love?”

“It’s enough for me.”

Heero took his hand away, but Quatre chased the retreating hand and caught it with his own. They sat silent for a long time, Heero thinking and Quatre just enjoying having Heero near.

Heero finally stood up. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Quatre didn’t protest, until he realized that he still had Heero’s spare key.

“Wait!” Quatre caught Heero just as he reached the front door. He pounced on him and pressed the key back into his hand. “Let yourself in next time.”

Heero looked down at the key in his hand as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I don’t want there to be a next time.”

Heero put one hand over Quatre’s mouth before he could protest. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to leave,” Heero explained. “I can’t come back if I don’t leave.” He looked rather embarrassed at having to explain it.

“You don’t have to,” Quatre pointed out, though he was slightly muffled by Heero’s hand. He reached up and pulled the hand away from his mouth so he could continue. “You can stay here.”

* * *

Quatre snuggled up against Heero’s side as he watched the news. Heero was willing to actually let him watch things, as long as Quatre specified that he did want to watch it instead of making out. Quatre thought the change was at least partially because their relationship was losing the desperate feeling that one of them was about to walk out on the other. Not that he didn’t still misbehave regularly.

“Heero,” Quatre scolded gently, as Heero pulled him closer and started to kiss his face.

“It’s just the weather,” Heero pointed out, pausing to kiss Quatre firmly on the jaw.

“I still want to see,” Quatre insisted, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Heero.

“Views of scattered cloud cover from 10:00 to 15:00, along with intermittent showers which will be confined to selected residential areas,” Heero said before moving into a more comfortable position, climbing on top of Quatre.

He sounded so much like the board newscaster that Quatre couldn’t help laughing. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“It’s Tuesday.” Heero claimed Quatre’s lips before he could interrupt with another question.

Quatre snuggled up against Heero for another minute, trading kisses while the newsman droned on about artificial weather patterns which, as far as Quatre could tell, were exactly as Heero had predicted.

“Mm,” Quatre murmured in satisfaction. He wiggled down in his seat until he could tuck his head under Heero’s chin and watch the news in relative safely.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just read the paper with me.” Heero rubbed his hair against Quatre’s hair as he spoke. He sounded more contemplative than sulky to Quatre.

Quatre didn’t know how Heero even found time to read the whole thing every morning. He suspected that was the only way Heero could entertain himself when he got up so early. He didn’t seem to need as much sleep as a normal person.

“That’s because if I read it with you, you’d never finish,” Quatre invented.

“I think you’re right,” Heero laughed softly. He paused to nibble thoughtfully at Quatre’s hair before he added, “you don’t think I have any self control.”

“I don’t mind.”

Heero sat back and tried to tilt Quatre’s chin up so he could kiss him, but Quatre pushed him away playfully. “I still want to see the rest of this.”

Heero sighed and settled back to simply cuddling Quatre.

“You know I’ll make it up to you later,” Quatre pointed out. He relaxed against Heero, sure that he would be able to watch the last few minutes in peace.

Heero pressed one kiss to the top of Quatre’s head before settling down as well.

* * *

Quatre rubbed his cheek against Heero’s stomach. He didn’t look cuddly, but Quatre had re-discovered that Heero was perfect for snuggling when he was relaxed.

Heero sighed sleepily. He had one arm looped around Quatre’s leg, and his forehead pressed against Quatre’s knee. Quatre licked lightly at Heero’s stomach in response.

This was what he missed most on nights when he was too tired to do anything with Heero. Those nights Quatre fell asleep without getting a chance to hold Heero, or to touch his body simply because it was there and he wanted to touch it. Quatre had almost forgotten how soothing it was to just be close to Heero and touch him. That was what had drawn him to Heero in the first place, that comfortable feeling.

This was actually a very convenient position for Quatre. He had already discovered a ticklish spot in Heero’s side, now he leaned forward and nibbled on it, waking Heero.

Heero bit above Quatre’s knee in retaliation, making Quatre laugh and squirm.

“Stop that,” Heero protested as Quatre nuzzled his side.

“Mm.” Quatre stopped tickling Heero in favor of kissing his stomach.

Heero pushed Quatre’s legs away from his face with one hand, reaching down to touch Quatre’s cheek with his free hand.

“Come up here.”

“Why?”

“So I can kiss you.”

That was as good a reason as any. Quatre turned himself around and crawled up Heero’s body until they were nose to nose.

Quatre yelped as Heero’s hands found his sides, tickling him mercilessly until he collapsed on top of Heero’s chest. He was laughing helplessly as he tried to bat Heero’s hands away.

Now that he had gotten his revenge, Heero slipped his arms around Quatre. He let Quatre regain his breath before kissing him lazily as he had promised.

Quatre relaxed again almost at once. He was content just to be close to Heero.

* * *

Quatre might have preferred to sleep in once in a while, but Heero was too insistent for him to manage that. He moved his hands over Quatre’s stomach and hips, trying to pull him closer. He trailed his lips lightly over Quatre’s shoulder before nipping hard at the base of his neck.

Quatre groaned and rolled over, hiding his head under the pillow. He just didn’t understand how Heero could be such a morning person. Not that he didn’t like waking to Heero’s attention, but five in the morning was too early to appreciate it.

“Let me wake up first!” Quatre protested when Heero tried to pry him out from under his pillow.

Once Heero let go of him, Quatre stretched and rubbed his eyes and honestly tried to wake up. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now. If Heero had been willing to wake him up slowly he would have been fine with it. Heero was just too insistent. When he wanted something he wanted it now. And if it was within reach he was just going to take it.

Heero climbed out of bed, looking back over his shoulder at Quatre. “Get up for breakfast.” He turned towards the door, about to walk out.

Quatre leaned over to grab Heero, who was just within reach, and dragged him back into the bed.

“I’m up.” Quatre pounced on Heero, hugging him.

“You’re up, so you want to waste more time in bed?”

“Mm-hm.” Quatre snuggled close to Heero, kissing him until he was sure Heero was aware of exactly what he wanted to do.

* * *

Quatre shifted to lay his head against Heero’s chest. He was so sleepy, but he still worried sometimes that if he let himself fall asleep Heero would disappear.

Moving slowly, as if still unsure that he could get away with the action without Quatre starting it, Heero slipped his arms around Quatre’s shoulders and squeezed him lightly. He pulled Quatre up just far enough to kiss the top of his head.

“Love you,” Heero whispered into Quatre’s hair. He still shaped the words carefully, as if he was unfamiliar with them.

Quatre sighed and echoed the words back to Heero. Before Heero, he hadn’t thought mere words could make him so happy. Feeling and understanding Heero’s love would always be the most precious to him, but hearing it was still rare enough that the words could make him melt.

Warm and safe in Heero’s arms, Quatre wanted to believe that they could always stay this way. He knew better than to take what he had now for granted, but he also wanted to trust that Heero would stay with him this time.

All he could do was live, and spend the time he was granted with Heero. Right now Quatre wanted to enjoy what he had. He would simply live his life day by day without worrying if Heero would still love him two or ten or twenty years from now.

Still, for this one moment, the future didn’t feel uncertain at all. He would wake in Heero’s arms. That was enough.


End file.
